


The Wild Crow

by SaintImperator



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), original au - Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2018-11-08 04:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 75,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11074473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintImperator/pseuds/SaintImperator
Summary: Alright so this started out as a highly experimental piece inspired by a drawing of Fwahe done by a freind as this grisly kind of crow-monster thing. I never intended for this to expand as far as it did but now I'm looking at an over 100 page story and it doesn't make sense not to at least offer it to readers- since one asked.THIS IS VERY DIFFERENT FROM MY USUAL CONTENTI must remind you that it is a lot more explicit and strange then my typical writing, because it wasn't originally intended to be shared.All of the characters featured in this story are original characters of my own, or my friend's creation.Basically this is a story about what would happen if Kohso, Kane, Alois and Fwahe's fates all happened to twist together in a kind of high fantasy setting.ONCE MOREthis is not like my typical stuff- please be aware and read with full knowledge of that.





	1. I Want to Take The Wings Off

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this extremely strange and very dark story of mine.
> 
> A note:  
> This story is inspired by the poem "The Wild Bunny" which can be found in the Bioshock series
> 
> Another note:  
> I reccomend listening to the song "In all my Dreams I Drown" from the Devil's Carnival after reading this chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original design for a crow-demon Kohso as drawn by Tetsuna-chan. 
> 
> You can see more of her work at tetsuna-chan.tumblr.com

I want to take the wings off but I can’t. 

Their weight bore down on me heavier then the chain I followed, which she assured me was meant only for her own protection. Who knew hollow bones could be so heavy? With every step I bent my back to accommodate for them, until I’d forgotten how to stand tall. The better I had, Her Ladyship didn’t like me looking up. I was not supposed to gaze upon her face when speaking. My eyes weren’t meant to wander. I had served her before death, which why she seemed so familiar now. She told me she had saved my life and that in order to redeem myself I must hunt by her side until she could take back what was stolen. 

Her Ladyship has had a lot stolen from her. The infection took my memories so she had to give me lessons on myself, re-teach to me all the details of my life. The study was extensive and agonizing. Her Ladyship had a firm hand and was not one to tolerate forgotten details. I’d been a grievous sinner and it was only by Her Ladyship’s grace that I’d been taken in and given purpose. I couldn’t remember doing it but she gave detailed accounts of the men I’d killed and the girls I’d ravished. It was sickening what I had done, more so that I had forgotten it all. It was the infection, she said, the poison of beasts and blood addlement in my soul that made me this way. 

When I tried to claps my hands together and pray for repentance, I found that the claws did not fit together. The gesture looked a crude awkward thing. So too with my legs, most of them now were the stiffened inflexible joints of a crow. My knees did not bend as well as before and the talons did not fit into boots. I would scratch chapel stairs if I tried to walk in and confess. Her Ladyship was merciful and kind, allowing me to confess to her at any time so that she might bring my confession into sacred grounds where I could tread no longer. 

But my sins weighed heavily on her. Often Her Ladyship complained of exhaustion, that working to amend my soul was tiring her. I was going to have to put forth more effort, I must find what was stolen before she expired. She was in rapid deterioration. Once the proud and respected knight, she now crumbled into decay. Her skin came off in flakes, like old paint. It blew away and revealed layers upon layers of itself underneath, but even Her Ladyship had limitations. The armor she wore in proud battle had melted to her chest and the fabric that was once a sturdy cloak was now moth-eaten silk, rotting and full of holes. 

We had to find her enforcer so that he could take on her burden. She’d told me little about him, other saying that only he was a wrongful thing and a relative of hers. Someone, she’d said who was like burnt food, the black char on the outside makes it impossible to salvage the dish. If he was so perverse and unsavory I did not know why we needed him. It seemed once more, I was the reason for the inconvenience. If nothing else, she assured me he would have the strength to punish me, the strength she lacked because of her gentle nature and brittle bones. Under his command I could begin to atone for my crimes. She warned me it would be a painful, bloody penance. Every day we drew nearer his prison, my resolve seemed to strengthen and I became more eager to free this man for her. Her Ladyship said it was possible, that if I did all I was bade and took my punishment well then the gods would grant her the power to cure my infection. It would be a horrible strain on her crumbling body but because she was so kind and good she was willing to suffer for me. I just had to do my part. 

How lucky I was to merit such affection. 

“You must remember,” she said, “That none of this purification can be accomplished until we take back the eye that the Flightless One stole from me. You will have to split the mirror, and guide us through the border of life and death. It is only the infected, like you who can see such things, who can manipulate the films over such borders. You must not fail me Kohso.” 

She still remembered my name. What unending miracles, fell from her fingertips as pollen from flowers. Her Ladyship mightn’t’ve been aware of it, but she’d restored a forgotten part of me. Death love to steal names. He devoured them, crunching to crumbs the sounds and shapes of the names of the damned. You could not leave, could not ascend without your name. Her Ladyship had made it possible for me to be set free if only I had the strength to follow her every command. 

The pace she set was blistering. As we walked over sands of sharpened bones, along the shores of a black sea my feet were cut to ribbons. Praise Kos her ladyship had yet metal shoes to walk in. My wings caught all the things in the hazy ocean air. Droplets condescend along their blackened spines til they were slick like the backs of beetles. The ocean made them an even greater burden. 

I want to take the wings off but I can’t. 

The chain went taunt and pulled me after. Her Ladyship was growing impatient. I did not wish to annoy her further but it was hard to walk with bloody feet. I left red footprints behind over, left them over white bone to mark our way back. 

“Do you see those cliffs?” She asked, extending her finger and directing my gaze. 

I came alongside her, staying just a step behind as was proper and looked over her shoulder. It was hard to see anything in the distance, the beaches were covered in thick fog that rolled and tumbled as the untamed waves. It took me longer then it should’ve before I saw the dark outline of the Cliffside, towering high above the beach. 

“Yes, your Ladyship.” I said, “I see them.” 

“My brother is imprisoned in caves below them, held captive by siren song. He thinks himself in heaven forever waited on by women, but they are slowly killing him. I cannot pass through the caves, the waters down there would wash me away. You must go alone, and return my brother to me.” 

The task sounded a fearsome and difficult one. If I had not been able to resist women in life, if I had been so easily swayed before meeting Her Ladyship, how was I supposed to brave eternal temptation? She had complete faith in me and as we neared the mouth of the cave I found my throat as dry as the sand, unable to voice my concerns. I should not bother her with anything more. 

“You will know him by his hair pin, it has a flower on it.” She said, “Tell him he must attend me, and he will come. I am sure of it.” 

“Yes, your Ladyship.” I said. 

Gazing into the dark mouth of the cave I did not want to enter. The jagged stalagmite and stalactites gave the impression of teeth and I nervously tread into the mouth of a monster. Her Ladyship sat down on one of the rocks outside. I could see exhaustion in the slump of her shoulders as she delicately arranged her crumbling cloak around her. I might need to carry her back across the beach, I feared she wouldn’t make it. 

I took my own chain in my own hands, wrapping it around my arms, once and then twice. What excess remained I held in my left hand, so that it would not drag the ground and trip me up. 

Inside the caves were cold, the wind poured through them like a stampede. My feathers did little to block the cold and what scraps of clothing I still wore had long lost all substance. It was frayed and threadbare, working only to preserve a modicum of modesty. The wind would’ve blown the flaking skin right off Her Ladyship. I was grateful she had sent me. 

Quickly it became dark and I had to lay my hand on the wall just to keep some kind of orientation clear. Step by step I continued, walking through icy water and patches of mud. Water dripped down my spine, falling from below and running down the crest of my drooping wings to pool at the base of my neck before plunging downwards. I shivered but carried on. 

I could see a light and I heard echoing laughs bounce from far tunnels. I pressed on, walking on the backs of live fish pressed so tightly together in this small space that they became another floor. They nipped at the soles of my feet. They could smell my blood. 

There could be no mistaking it when I saw him. The cave opened up into a large room, perfectly circular. Glimmering candlelight cast flickering shadows across the walls. Just as the fish had been packed so tightly that I might have walked along their backs so too were the women. I could not imagine what Her Ladyship’s enforcer saw in them, for to me it was nothing but gnarled twisting bodies of snails, hung through with wrinkled skin and warped aged faces. The women’s shells were piled at the walls of the room, while they crawled out, over and on top of one another to reach the man at the center. He reclined on a rock outcropping. 

He had silver hair, just as she did. He wore it long and I confirmed his identity even from afar by the hair pin. It reflected the light in several radiating beams, bobbing with his head as it moved. He brought the woman’s faces up to his own, kissing them while others laid their hands about him. With every touch, every exchange of flesh he dimmed. Like sun slowly fading color from a page they drained color from his person, silver became grey. His eyes were hardly ever opened, closed in climax or laughter, but by and by I saw jade green grow dimmer with dust. 

This was nothing like I feared it would be. The women paid me no attention, and I in turn felt nothing for them. There was none of the desire Her Ladyship had recounted me succumbing to in life, and I could’ve cried out in joy. I could complete this task and return the first of the stolen things to her, begin to pay back the staggering debt that weighed on my shoulders, her shoulders, heavier then my wretched wings. 

The manner in which to approach was more troubling to land on then I’d first thought. I worried over navigating the caves and avoiding temptation, but the real trouble was the densely packed room. Was it proper to call to him? Her Ladyship had not provided me with a name or title, merely calling him an enforcer. 

I swallowed my reservations and stepped into the room. Like nocturnal things exposed to daylight the women hissed and scurried away, clawing over each other to get back to their shells. They lost hair and eyes, one forfeiting an ear in the scramble. There sudden departure caused the man to look up. His dull eyes narrowed and he snapped upright. 

“Who are you?” he snarled as he tightened the laces on his trousers. Angry, bitter words wrought through with jealous rage. 

Before I could answer he had snatched up his shirt and come over to me. His hands were on what little chain ran between my neck and the loops around my arms, he was pulling it so that the edge of the collar pressed into my chin and tilted his eyes up to meet mine. 

“Who do you think you are! You hideous demon how dare you intrude on my-“ 

“S-s-he sent me!” I whimpered. 

He pulled tighter, “And think to interrupt!” 

“Please sir!” I cried, putting every ounce of devotion for Her Ladyship that I possessed into my words, “I am here on behalf of your sister!” 

Instantly the tension loosed from his hand and the sharp green sprung back to his eyes. “Alois?” He asked. 

“H-her…her Ladyship sent me to rescue you..” I explained. 

Like waking from a dream he looked around him. His nose wrinkled in horror as whatever illusion he had been under before, crumbled away. He saw the room for what it was, the women for what they were. He was disgusted, but his colors came back in a rush. 

“Lead, crow-boy.” He commanded, taking the chain from me. I surrendered it easily, Her Ladyship would’ve wanted that. “Take me to her.” 

“Yes sir.” I said, turning back the way I had come. He gave a harsh kick and sent me sprawling, landing in the frigid water. 

“If my sister is reffered to as “her ladyship” do you not think her brother merits a more prestigious honorific then common day sirs, crow-boy?” 

“S-sorry you-your Lordship.” I stammered, struggling to pick myself up. The waterlogged wings pressed down on me, and his boot came down over them. My arms shook barely able to keep my head above water and support my shaking chest. 

“That’s better.” He said, “Whatever purpose my sister keeps you for never forget that you are miles below us and cannot rise above.” 

“Yes, your Lordship.” I said, “She has taught me well of the person I was in life, the horrid things I had done. I will not forget.” 

“Good.” He said, “Now get up, crow-boy. I’m tired of waiting.” 

He did not remove his boot from my back to make it easier. I scooped shaking legs beneath me, rose to kneeling with wobbly hands and eventually made it upright. I started forward and he kicked me down again. 

“You’ve a lot to pay for.” He told me, “Servants are not to walk in front of their masters.” 

“Y-you told me to lead, your Lordship.” I said. 

“Yes, but that does not mean you won’t be punished for it.” He said, “Hurry up crow-boy.” 

It took a very long time to reach the mouth of the cave. I never got more than seven steps before he sent me down again. My back was bruising. It was only when he saw Her Ladyship that his grip on the chain went slack, and he ceased accosting me. 

“Alois…dear gods what..” He stammered. 

“It is temporary.” She explained, “Forgive me, I am looking lest then my best.” 

“Nothing on earth or beyond has ever been more radiant, sweet sister.” He said. He took her crumbling hands in his own and kissed them. Lips that had just spent years locked with soul-suckers in dark rooms now damaged Her Ladyship’s weak hands. He was not at all considerate. 

“Kane I see you have already met Kohso. You do of course, remember him from his serving days at Cainhurst.” She said, making our introduction. 

He looked me up and down, “Oh..uh, yes of course.” 

His voice lacked its usual confidence. No doubt it was due to this ghastly form. 

“I will explain more later.” She said, “But the journey here has left me weary. We must find someplace to rest.” 

They walked across the sand arm and arm, having a private conversation. My chain was no longer held gently in Her Ladyship’s hand but was now wound several times around his arm and gripped tightly in the palm. He never looked back to check on me, but would give a tug every so often to ensure I was keeping up. It was wrongful of me, but a distaste for his Lordship began to grow in the pit of my stomach. 

I did my best to ignore it. This was Her Ladyship’s enforcer. I should not have expected him to be anything less than the cruel man that she described. 

Further down the beach we found a graveyard of ruined ships. Like carriages crashing together in busy intersection they seemed to have lost course and collided with themselves. Instead of horses legs lying broken on pained diagonals, the ships masts were knotted together. Sails and ropes and fishing nets all tangled together, water-logged and rotting. 

I thought I might’ve been on a ship before. There was something familiar about it. Somehow the sea seemed important. We passed broken crates with the word “Prestwick” stamped into them. That seemed familiar too. I could not remember any ships from Her Ladyship’s lessons, and she had recounted all of my life. This must’ve just been some trick. 

He kicked in the door of the captain’s quarters. The far window had been smashed and glass was scattered all over the floor. The room was in better condition than most of the ship. Bent-backed I worked to clear away the broken panes while His Lordship cleared off the bed and inspected the blankets for mold. 

“I am fine, Kane. This will suffice.” She said, reclining on the ancient pillows. 

His Lordship sat on the edge of the bed, so forward of him. I didn’t say anything still attending the glass. There he was patting her hand again, didn’t he know the strain that was putting on her? 

“Both of you may go. I need to rest.” She said. 

Her head swung down in a gentle arc, sending up a cloud of pale dust when it hit the pillows. I knew there would be marginally less of her when she woke. It was my fault, all my fault. 

His Lordship grabbed the chain and started to lead me from the room, before I had set the glass down. I had to strain against him for a moment to set my handful of broken things down on a rickety table. He gave a harsher tug and was clearly displeased. I followed after him with even greater haste. 

“You have tired her out.” He said to me, “She told me that the weight of your sins it what ails her so.” 

“Yes, your Lordship.” I replied, “The shame of it is boundless.” 

“I am to make you repent. I am to punish you for your wickedness.” He said. He smiled as he said those words. There was something about that smile that was wrongful. It was too wide, too sharp, like the blinding sun it hurt to look at. You wanted to turn away. 

“It’s quite a task.” He continued, “But she has undue fondness for you. She is perfect and kind and wishes your infection reversed, your life saved. Can you even comprehend the cost of salvation?” 

“Yes, your Lordship.” I said, “She’s told me of it.” 

He laughed, “She has sugarcoated it for your fragile heart, crow-boy. You have taken my sister from me. Do you know how many years I waited for her? She is mine to possess and you have stolen her!” 

“S-she doesn’t belong to you.” I said. 

Like a ball loosed from a cannon his angry fist crashed into my face. I stumbled and he capitalized, kicking me down to the deck. 

“You have forgotten what it is to be a man under god, to be on your knees and pray. You have forgotten how to repent.” He said. 

“I…I’m not allowed…in the churches.” I said, pushing myself back up. His boot came down on me, brushing against bruises and shaking my spine. 

“Stay down, crow-boy. I am your church now.” He said, “Get on your knees and worship me. I will be your priest and your redeemer. I will make you pay for all of your sins, and your penance starts tonight. You have denied me a space in my sister’s bed. Your sin weakens her so much that I cannot lie beside her, and a man has desires.” 

“Y-your Lordship?” I stammered. 

“Believe me I take no pleasure in the thought of expending energy over you, crow-boy. You are an ugly wretched thing, infected and unpleasant to look at. Underneath there is something my sister sees, something I cannot but she wants me to wash away all your ugliness so that it comes through. It must be like those women in the cave who were nothing but wrinkled things, so to must you be different underneath.” He said. 

“I-I” I stammered trying to find something to contribute. 

“Don’t speak!” He stammered, pressing down on my back, sending the ache up my spine into those heavy unbearable wings. “You’ve tried to steal my sister from me, poison her with concern for your loathsome exsistance.” 

“S-sorry-“ 

“Don’t speak!” He growled. This time it was not the slam of his boot on my back, but his hands on the collar, pulling until there was no air. “Do you know how long I waited for her attention. She cares so much for you and your twisted body. You have ruined her with your sin! You must be punished.” 

I couldn’t think, I could hardly see. Black spots began to overtake my vision as he stole the air from my lungs. An enforcer she had called him. Was this how penance was paid? It had been so long I could not remember, and her Ladyship hadn’t covered it in her lessons. She had merely said she found it in herself to forgive me. 

His Lordship led me down below decks, where the ropes and hammocks were even more twisted then they’d been on the deck. 

“I will not have you attacking me while I administer my sermon.” He said. “Hold your arms out. Stretch them further, yes that’s the way crow-boy.” 

He tied each wrist to a part of the crumbling barrel ceiling above us. The wood was decaying, rotting but it was thick and sturdy enough that I could not pull free of it. The ropes were old and rough, they cut into my wrists as His Lordship wrenched my arms as far away from each other as they would allow. My shoulders were strained, they twisted as I struggled on tip-toes for more comfortable position, but none existed. I was sure such measures weren’t necessary. I had retired at the same time, in some situations even the same room as Her Ladyship and had never raised a hand against her, but His Lordship thought otherwise. 

“Do you remember any of your prayers, crow-boy?” He asked. 

“Y-yes your Lordship.” I replied. 

“Good.” He replied, “Let’s hear them.” 

In that moment my mind went completely blank. A second ago I could name the gods that Her Ladyship had spent so long teaching me about. There were so many saints and I had learned all their names. I really had, I had recited them to her flawlessly. His Lordship’s eyes bored in to me. I tried to hang my head and turn away, to look somewhere that he wasn’t so that I could recall calmly without his scathing glares. 

I couldn’t just say nothing. 

“K-kos almighty f-from furthest shores, Inle who g-gaurds the lonely mors,-“ 

His Lordship gripped my jaw, digging sharpened nails into my cheeks. One held my mouth open and he pressed it into my lower lip until it began to bleed. 

“Those are the prayers of heathens. There are no gods called Kos and Inle here. Do you not know of Saint Annalilse, crow-boy?” 

“No, your Lordship.” 

He took away his hands licking the blood off his finger. 

“Well then allow me to teach you.” 

His Lordships lessons were even harsher then Her Ladyships. She was able to teach with patience, to forgive a word misspoken but as his lessons continued my back sprouted new scars. Every wrong word released the tongue of a whip, and left a line of fire across my back, across my chest. He went lower down onto my legs when it pleased him. It continued for hours and hours. I was covered in sweat and blood and tears, surrounded by fallen feathers when His Lordship finally relented. 

“You’ve tried out my wrist, crow-boy.” He said. 

“Sorry, your Lordship.” I sniffled. I was trying to remain strong, to take this punishment with all the dignity and powers of endurance I had vowed to before it happened. 

He ran his nails down my back, over my new scars. They were long and sharp, I quivered underneath them. 

“I was going to use this hand for other things tonight. A man has desires, crow-boy. You’ve taken both my sister sweetest, and left my hands exhausted. Is there no end to the strain you put on your masters? No end to the depth of your corruption?” 

“I’m sorry.” I whimpered. 

“Sorry doesn’t satisfy! Sorry won’t heal my sister nor will it absolve your sin! You are hardly sorry, crying during your atonement and forgetting your gods. You want to be sorry, Kohso? You want to know what it feels to make up for what you did to all those poor innocent girls?” 

I couldn’t answer him. I tried but my lips shook and my eyes spilled yet more tears. The world went blurry as he took me down. I thought at last I would be allowed to rest as he bade me lie down on one of the waterlogged bunk-beds that lined the sides of the ship. He tied my arms above my head, my ankles stretched below. It was just for protection certainly. He was worried I would attack his sister in the night. 

But then his hands hooked into the scrap of fabric at my waist, the last remains of my robes and pulled down. They came away down my legs easily. His hands were on my shoulders, where my wings locked against the bone, pressing down so that my face flattened out on the mattress. 

He called it atonement, forcing me to satisfy his desires. I suffered, but did struggle, allowing His Lordship to do as he pleased. He was not gentle and did not spare any energy on affection but grimly went about his duty until he was satisfied. It was a long night and he took his time, promising me this was just another way of clearing my sin, punishing me for what I’d done. 

It hurt so much he had to be right. I didn’t know how I was going to get up and continue to travel the next morning after all of His Lordship’s teachings. He did not untie me when he was finished, just gave me a swat on the rear and collapsed into one of the nearby bunks. I had to sleep in his same position, without even the dignity of the cloth covering. Had I truly left others like this? I could not imagine being so cruel. 

His Lordship woke me the next morning and cut through the ropes around my wrist and ankles. All of me was sore and stiff, but I dare not beg to be allowed to sleep any longer. It was hard to stand, the scars left by the whip ached whenever I changed position and my legs wobbled, threatening to give out. 

“Come along, crow-boy. We must show my sister what you’ve learned.” 

I did not want to appear before Her Ladyship in such brittle condition. We would no doubt have to travel more today, but climbing the stairs to the deck was arduous and exhausting challenge enough. I didn’t seem able to carry my own weight. It was pathetic. 

She had already risen and was standing at the side of the ship, looking out across the bannister into the sea. She turned when she heard us coming, and waited for us to greet her. 

“Good morning, sweet sister.” His Lordship said. 

“Brother.” She returned. 

“Good morning, your Ladyship.” I said, the last to speak. 

“You are looking less than your best.” Her Ladyship appraised. 

“S-sorry, your Ladyship.” I said. I felt blush rise in my cheeks. There was no way to explain to her the cause for such dishelved presentation. 

“He had forgotten his gods.” His Lordship explained. “We were up very late working on his lessons. I am your trusted enforcer and he was made to suffer for his ignorance, as any man should be. Show her what you learned, Kohso. Recite for your masters.” 

I dropped to my knees, hands together in front of me. His Lordship did not have to teach me the proper position for prayer, thank the gods I knew that on my own. 

“This prayer I say to gods of old 

Watchful eyes from thrones of gold 

Saint Annalise who gaurds the relm 

And watches us ‘neath silver helm 

Fight the wicked curving wheel 

Til their wicked masters kneel 

Accept our praise and cleanse our blood 

Raise us up and call us good 

Serve in our stead whislt we are away 

And take the throne again some day 

Locked in battle with corrupt martyr 

Keep us now from straying farther 

Merciful now, your love we cry 

Consume your blood and never die” 

She nodded. Nothing more. His Lordship did not praise me but I was not taken back below. The ropes stayed far from my wrist. His Lordship even passed her my chain and I was led away from the graveyard of ships by gentle hands. 

She did not say where we were headed, nor how hard a day of travel it was going to be, but by the time we left the beach for thinning woods I was barely able to carry on. 

“What is the matter with you?” she asked me. 

“My atonement left me weary, your Ladyship.” I said. 

His Lordship stepped back to loom over me. “You dare complain? My sister crumbles away daily, weighed down by your sin you insufferable leech and you have the nerve to say that a little lesson has left you so tired as to laze around behind us?” 

“N-no your Lordship.” I said “I just me-“ 

“Well then keep up, crow boy!” He barked. 

She did not intercede on my behalf. I shouldn’t have expected her too, but I did. I thought that some of the kindness she had talked about sharing with me before we perished in the land of the dead would shine through. Such a mad thought to have. Why should I expect kindness during this period of retribution? I should be glad of the suffering, grateful for every strike I had taken. 

I strained to be, but they burned. My legs would not stop shaking and for the first time that day, I collapsed. My knees were skinned on the forest floor and I was instantly ashamed of myself for the pullback it cause in Her Ladyship’s arm. She gave a gasp of pain and the chain went tight. I was quick to pick myself up, quicker still to apologize but it was not the only time I collapsed that day. 

On the second offense she passed the chain to her brother, making sure I watched the transfer the whole time. I was no longer worthy of being led by her and it brought hot tears to my eyes. She had seen me exhausted but I would keep my tears from her all I could. His Lordship would no doubt produce more tonight. 

In all I faltered six times, and each was harder to rise from then the last. 

“I am disappointed in you today.” Her Ladyship said, “You need to work harder. You had promised me this was something you could endure.” 

There were no words but apologies. Her eyes had gone cold and I was desperate to restore warmth to them whatever it took. After she had retired, and before any commands could be transferred I fell to my knees in front of His Lordship and begged him for more lessons, more absolution. 

“Please let me attend church.” I begged. 

“I am your priest and your salvation.” He replied, “Come sinner, the doors are open.” 

Church was held in a tent this time. We had stopped in the woods, and there were plenty of old structures from old battles still left standing. The ground was littered with spears and pikes that had failed to meet their mark. Everything was like aged copper, going green and peeling. His Lordship and I did our best to find suitable quarters for her Ladyship. It was difficult, there was not much to work with. We gave her the sturdiest of the tents and piled bedrolls, several thick so that she might be elevated off the ground. 

“Teach him well.” She said. 

“He will learn.” His Lordship assured. 

“I’ll do my-“ 

“You were not asked to speak.” Her Ladyship informed me. 

I felt my heart fall to the pit of my stomach. Not only was I no longer worthy of being led, but now she didn’t want me speaking either. I nodded to her before backing out of her tent, trying not to shake. I worked to swallow back the sorrow, but His Lordship had other plans. 

We took the tent next to her. His Lordship seemed to think it was less then ideal, as there were no strong methods of securing me. I would have to stand with my own strength this time, and he lacked the confidence that I could manage. I stood ready while he cut a switch from one of the drooping willow trees, prying the leaves off of it one by one. 

“Recite.” He commanded as he labored. 

I did. I put all the prayers he had taught me right back to him without hesitation, without mistake. He faced me and flicked the switch across my knees. 

“Never stand when you pray.” He said. 

“You told me to stand, your Lordship.” I reminded. 

Another strike, across the chest. It stung and I bit back my cries. 

“You were not asked to speak.” He said. 

His Lordship then continued to ask me to speak. He asked me about gods I did not know and I struggled to come up with answers to satisfy him. The false ones made him angrier then when I simply admitted my ignorance. I found myself repeating over and over the same sentence and every time I was raked over the coals. 

“Who keeps the good Saint Annalise imprisoned?” He asked. 

“I don’t know, your Lordship.” I said. 

Then the strike would come. 

“How many rubies adorn the cup of redemption?” 

“I don’t know your Lordship.” 

Again and again, until I fell and then more rained down while I was on the floor. I had hoped he would go until he felt I had done my best, but once more it was his tired wrist that stopped his lessons. Even with a lighter burden then the whip, my sins were enough to exhaust Her Ladyship’s trusted enforcer. 

The shame of it to want to lie down too, now that the blows had stopped. I fell onto my side, right in the dirt. His Lordship could have all the bedrolls. I just wanted to lie here, I just wanted to rest, but he leaned over me. He put his lips down close to my ear. 

“A man has desires, crow-boy.” 

“Yes, your Lordship.” I said. 

“On your knees.” He instructed. 

The same manner of absolution as the night on the boat, but it was worse this time. The ground was rough, no bedding beneath it. Everything was already sore and bruised and bleeding, to just get more sore and bruised and bleeding. I knew I was gasping and screaming, but I didn’t realize how much of a problem such things were. 

Risen from her slumber, disturbed once more by my inability to be purified, Her Ladyship stood at the entrance to our tent. I went red all over to have her see me like this, and hung my head. I could not stand her gaze right now. His Lordship paused but did not stop, did not cover himself or myself for decency’s sake. 

“You’re being very loud, Kohso.” She said, “It is disturbing my sleep.” 

My face felt like it was burning, spreading to the tips of my ears. I started to shake and fumbled at an apology. His Lordship leaned over me and I gritted my teeth against the transfer of weight and change of position. He grabbed my hair and lifted my head. 

“Apologize.” He commanded. 

It was so hard to speak like this. She stared down at me, she could see the tears and the shame. Surely she had already known what His Lordship was doing to me, but having her see it was another thing. 

“I’m…sorry for disturbing… you, your Ladyship.” I panted. 

I couldn’t see, but rather I could feel His Lordship smile. 

“Recite.” He commanded, “Give your masters an evening prayer.” 

She left after I was finished, but his Lordship was far from finished. He took me a different way so that I might not scream. My mouth was full and breathing was hard enough, there was no sound. I don’t think I took a breath for an hour. His Lordship, finally finished, closed my mouth by pressing my chin upwards with the tip of his finger, then patted me on the cheek. His only affection came in these tired moments- if it could be considered affection. I was unsure. 

His Lordship took the bedroll and I just fell where I was, trying not to cry. I wanted myself just to sleep, to drop into inky cosmos and not feel pain for a few hours but it would not come. Everything burned too brightly. He found sleep easily, not even taking the time to clothe himself before reclining and skinking into dreams. The entire time he held my chain, wrapped twice around the wrist. I could not find sleep, could not find salvation. His Lordship did not present me to her the next morning. She did not ask for a recitation of my lessons, nor did she take up my chain in her hands. 

I tried not to stumble, but we had reached the foot of the mountains by mid-day and it looked like there was going to be a climb. 

“If only his wings were as strong as the depths of his sin,” His Lordship mused, “Then he might fly us over.” 

Her Ladyship did not respond, but doggedly resigned her hand to finding a hold in the crumbling mountain façade and moving slowly upwards. We could see every strain in her muscle, watch as the layers of skin and bone shook and crumbled. 

“Alois please you’re-“ 

“I’m fine!” She spat at him. 

But she was not fine. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she was in the air, unable to keep her hold on the Cliffside she started to fall. His Lordship wasn’t close enough to make it, but I just might. I ran for it and made a hasty catch, nearly snapping my neck from the collar and the chain in order to get there in time. Some of her hand had come away, just gone to dust and vanished but she was otherwise unharmed. 

“Thank you, Kohso.” She said. 

I gently set her down. 

“Are you alright, your Ladyship?” I asked. 

She dusted herself off, stopping only briefly to inspect her hand. “I am fine.” 

His Lordship was quick to ask the same question, quicker still to declare that we would not be passing over the mountains. He spoke softly to Her Ladyship but when speaking of cancelled plans he turned his attention to me and spat every syllable. He had covered me in bruises and red lines, I was doing all I could to please him, and he persisted in his cruelty. 

“It is all for your own good.” I kept telling myself. “This is how he must care for you so that you can be redeemed. He has to be this cruel. He is Her Ladyship’s trusted enforcer. He would not lead you astray. It is all for your own good.” 

“Nonsense,” she said after taking a moment to recover. “We have to pass over these mountains. Beyond lies the crumbling ruins of an old castle. The mirror between worlds is there, and Kohso is the one who shall split it.” 

“Why him?” His Lordship asked. 

“Because it must be someone who is both infected, and beloved by the gods.” She said. “In life, after his redemption at our hands he was a purified penitent man and surely curried their favor. It could be a trying and painful ordeal. You must ensure he is ready to handle the task. Unlike yesterday we can not afford to stumble.” 

“I am ready your-“ 

“Do not speak.” His Lordship said. “You are not nearly strong enough.” 

I withdrew and the two of them continued back and forth over weather or not the mountains might be climbed. I had to side with His Lordship. I did not want her climbing them, but she would not be swayed. 

I broke the silence and spoke, “Then let her be strapped to my back.” I said, “I may be a monster, but these claws won’t come out of rock anytime soon. I can do it, your Ladyship, your Lordship. I can carry Her Ladyship over the moutains.” 

Kane punched me, knocking me to the ground. My left eye was to be left bruised and blackened. 

“How day you suggest something so degrading! Lady Alois is a noble befitting the house of Cainhurst and she’s not to be carried like some sack of potatoes by the likes of you!” 

His boot came down on my throat this time, taking out all the air and pinning me down in the dirt. I tried to apologize but the words would not come out of my throat. 

“Enough!” She shouted, “Kane get off of him.” 

Wrapping the chain once more around his arm he relented. He pulled me up onto my knees. It was the same position I’d spent much of last night in. 

“Do your worst to him, sweet sister.” His Lordship encouraged. 

“On the contrary.” She said, “Give me his chain.” 

He was hesistant to allow it to pass hands. I did not want Her Ladyship to be strained by it, especially not after her fall. She took it easily though and thanked him kindly. Just like last time she was deliberate in her motions, and made sure I was watching closely as the chain became hers once more. Trust, that is what it was. She trusted me again. 

“Now Kohso, are you certain you are able?” She asked. 

“Yes, your Ladyship!” I said 

“Can you even comprehend the penalty if you fail?” She asked. 

I shook my head. 

“If what my brother did to you in that tent made you scream imagine what will happen when the souls of all my loyal servants, my helmsmen and women who fought by my side, my noble elders and sharp-eyed archers, when my cooks and maids and dressing gown boys, when my hounds and horses and relations, when my queen hears how you have failed and what it has cost. Then only, will you know the depths of pain, Kohso.” 

I swallowed, “I will not fail you, your Ladyship.” 

“Then why not I?” His Lordship asked, “For surely I am strong enough?” 

“Should I fall and die the task must be completed all the same. I want what was stolen from me, but beyond that there is no end to my fury that it rests with the Flightless One. Should I perish you are the only person I know who is clever enough to find new infected, to split the mirror and come through unscathed.” She explained. 

The answer was less then satisfactory. He glared at me. 

“Then why in that manner? Strapped to the back? Why not send the crow-boy up and then he might lower rope down and pull us up?” His Lordship propsed. 

In answer Her Ladyship extended her hands. The crater in her palm was all too defined, far too deep. She would not see recovery anytime soon, not unless we got her back to the world of the living. That was supposed to heal her and I prayed to every god that it would. His Lordship might exclude the old ones, the ones Her Ladyship reminded me I had served- but they stood in my mind with greater vibrancy then his new gods. I could not afford to discriminate in any case, gods were gods and I could use all of their blessings. 

“The rope would tear them apart worse than the rocks. Do not either think of gripping me ‘round the waist while Kohso pulls from the Cliffside. He may have the strength for me, I weigh hardly anything anymore- but both of us is unessecary risk. I have made up my mind, and we can’t afford to lose any more time.” 

I repeated my earlier promise. “I will not fail you, your Ladyship.” 

“Good.” She said, “Kane go and find us some materials. We’ve work to do.” 

“Yes, sweet sister.” He growled. He stalked off into the woods, to salvage what he could from the many camps we had passed through. Despite his contempt for me I trusted him. His Lordship cared for her more then I did and would surely inspect every scrap of cloth and length of rope for all flaws lest they be the cause of her injuries. 

I think he was ashamed he hadn’t caught her. It wasn’t His Lordship’s fault- I was just standing a half-step closer. I was in the right place at the right time, carefully watching Her Ladyship while he sought purchase on the cliff so as to climb beside her. 

I was in for harsh nights and difficult days, but to have the trust of Her Ladyship back was enough to carry me on. If only these wings weren’t weighing me down. 

I want to take the wings off, but I can’t.


	2. But I Can't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet a very different version of Fwahe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the image that inspired it all, Crow Fwahe as drawn by Tetsuna-chan 
> 
> You can see more of her work at tetsuna-chan.tumblr.com

People died in plagues. 

That was just a fact, it just happened. Scores and scores were poisoned and rotting. I saw them all with their empty black mouths, open like they were screaming. I saw their twisted faces and pale eyes. I saw them all because here, in this mausoleum was the only place the church men feared to come. If I went into their towns, put my house next to their houses they would come after me with their fire and their pitchforks and try to kill me. 

They would not succeed, especially in these times. The sky had been dyed red. Someone had shot an arrow through the formless god and pinned him to the moon. His blood blocked out the sun and the clouds and turned the sky red. It had not darkened to copper, as human blood but remained vibrant scarlet. His dying howls echoed through the black forests that surrounded the graveyard. 

Not allowed to live amongst their living, but they let me take residence among their dead. How kind of them. How kind that I could take shelter amongst their stinking corpses and try to live off the crusting blood in the cavernous bodies of the previously exhumed. Wasn’t I lucky that I could see the tortured faces of their children when they perished to the White Blindness, bubbling throats and boils on skin. 

Yes, I should’ve been so grateful. 

I got to stand back and watch as their greedy king locked himself in his castle, trying to punish all the young and beautiful things by sealing them away with him. It was so much like a perverse fairytale it might’ve induced vomiting, but everything changed when the Formless one was pinned to the moon. Mimimus the old king had thought that killing a god would grant him power and wealth. 

Moreso it would award him a certain youth and admiration he had long since lost. Like killing those who made the world would do him any favors. The Formless One sent forth the white blindness, and I watched so many fall victim too it. My graveyard filled up, there were so many that they could not properly prepare them. 

It was a time of feasting for me. The sickness seemed unable to take to my vile condition, and thus as they died I prospered. The king felt to decay in his one great castle, and over and over the old god screamed from his prison in the sky. There was a boy who was supposed to be able to pull it out, but he had died too young. 

They all died to young, but it might have been better this way. I couldn’t have watched him fall to the White Blindness like the others. He was so dedicated to his training, that he would one day be a cleric the city could be proud of, whom the gods themselves favored. He was well on his way when his life was stolen, and even now, even from these graves I was bent on finding its thief. 

They respected him in the cities, some knight afforded all the advantages of noble birth, who looked the part and trained the part. His skin was white, his hair was blonde but his soul was dark as the blackened tongues of all the dead who composed my lawn. That and he was hard to catch. Somehow he had shackled a white stag, made it his mount. It was faster than all other living things, and supposedly the Executioner atop it could outrun death itself. 

For all the concern I had, for all the desire of revenge and the decrepit living conditions I stayed in this crumbling place. I stayed because somewhere, kept away, again like all fair maidens in all fairytales, was my Frigga. 

She had been mine in the way that the stars belonged to the sky, a perfect light against blackness undoubtedly made for the one it was set against. Beautiful of course, but more then that she had been strong and kind. She had wanted me before I realized I wanted her and pulled me from the shadows at a summer festival. That was back before the sky was blood. 

She had come here to get into the business of magic-making. All others cities had chased her away, claiming women could not do such things, but she was stronger then that. Only for the most perverse of reasons had Minimus accepted her- and she knew well that the old king kept her in his castle but cared not for her studies. 

Before the White Blindness she had come away often, but now she had fallen ill of it. She was trapped in the crumbling castle with its dying king and ailing servants. Every bowl of water they brought to her lips was poisoned by their touch. Whatever food they made came from sick starving animals or black-root gardens where the ground was as bad as the coughing cooks. She could never get better- would never get better there. 

I wanted to storm the gates, and rescue her like all noble stupid things once more of old stories. In fact, foolhardy I had tried but Minimus had gaurds that outnumbered me even while the world crumbled. I could not break through, not over nor under, not anyway sideways. She was sealed away, for many believe that only in keeping sorcerers close could the White Blindness ever be stopped. They called me a devil, so that is what I became. 

Whatever clothes I had worn before were long forgotten. Frigga need never see me like this, this form I had vowed too until the god finally died and I could retrieve her. I was never much of one for vows, but this was an easy promise to keep. So long as the sky was red I would tear out the hearts of wicked men. As long as they kept my dearest locked away I would find anything they loved, anything they held dear and spoil it for them. The gods were on my sides and now that I had fashioned a cloak of bone and blood, black feathers I was ready to leave this place until the world was done re-settling. 

There was weight to this promise, and ties to Frigga best not forgotten. There was a promise to Kohso that needed to be kept, and keep it I would. I had forged the chains to remind me, working with pieces taken from the coffins or out of the urns of the offerings the city lay at my feet. A string of prayer charms from the penitent passed for the holy child who was the only one to prove himself loyal companion in the end. Strings of beautiful glimmering things, all fraught with bells to remind me of the lady who I’d willingly surrendered my heart too. 

The rest were all simple iron, and would serve to keep my purpose clear. Anything could be made of iron, and any man could find himself at the end of my sword. I needed to be clear of mind- a difficult task with a brain so muddled as my own- so as to see them all beyond my prejudice and separate the wicked from the good. 

A mask to cover my face, for who was Fwahe but a lovestruck girl waiting in a graveyard. I put a mask over her face, and became a crow. Black feathers, bone beak I would pick apart at the carrion of the world, take their eyes. 

Ah yes, the eye. I had nearly forgotten to take it with me. 

Something stolen from me that I had stolen back. I no longer recalled a name or an affiliation but she had wanted to do something horrible to me- that I could remember. She had taken my eye and replaced it with a golden one, marring forever the face I’d been born with. By some miracle the new eye fused with old cells and it worked just as fine, but I did not want that old one going to some perverse scientist’s ill-fated pursuit. 

This was in the days of the powerful choir. There was reason to worry about what one’s severed eyes might be attatched too. It was hardly safer now, and best to keep one’s missing body parts about them. There was a leather pocket in my cloak fitted to the jar perfectly. A belt-buckle strap ran over the top so that I could be sure it was properly secured. 

I wanted to go after the knight with the captured stag who killed the cleric because he was jealous of the favor Kohso had rightly earned. God that would be a first prize to have, and what more with the swiftness of such a creature I might be able to best the castle once more. 

Lastly came the sword, my sword. It had to be my sword for Kohso had surrendered it to me, moments before Alfred took his life. He was in his prime. Both of my companions stolen in their most wonderful years. I had spent enough time in these woods alone to know when one truly ought to revel and be carefree. Both of them had become rooted in their studies, their duties when they could have been enjoying themselves, and that dedication and fervor was no doubt part of the reason I had treasured the both of them. 

What nonsense for a crow to care for. Their plights were mine no longer, they belonged to the girl called Fwahe. I lowered the bone mask over my eyes and became a crow on the hunt. The only thing I left behind were black feathers and the sound of rattling chains. The wicked would come to fear that before long. 

It should have been unselfish, I had so endevoured to make myself aware of other targets but that knight stood out bolder then the memory of any others. When I tried to hold someone elses nature in my mind, I found it covered by him, like stains in cloth that just wont wash out. Alfred ruined the patterns. 

Who was I, but a crow to deny someone so insistent on putting himself at the forefront of my mind. The last report of him I’d been able to asecertain had spoken of a tournament to the south, with the knight listed as one of the competitors. It seemed a farce that they should still hold games when the vast majority of those who might attend were laying up in sick beds fighting for their very lives. 

It was exactly the sort of strangeness that only came from the disparity between those who had, and those who had not. Perhaps beyond the horizon the sky did not bleed and the White Blindness was no more. I would find out for myself. The crow would attend the tournament of the Black Rabbit and murder the favored contestant before he had the chance to taste victory. This time there would be no handfuls of roses given to ladies too young to really comprehend their intent. Alfred would not ride out amongst the massed and select from them a queen of love and beauty. 

I would choose for him, and I already had the shapely visage of Death in mind. She could take his flowers in her ancient blackened hands and turn them to dust. The petals would crumple before the champion prize. So like the petals would be his armor, easily folding and falling away at her touch. Then at last I would deliver to her the man himself so that she might look under skin, though muscles to bone, and strip away all that was not skeleton. 

If I were able to manage it I would strive to take his soul and catch it in a bottle. When my time was finally over I would try and offer it to Kohso. He deserved that much. It might never bring him back to the world he knew, for that was a place long gone. More still it would be a difficult thing to pin down, I’d likely be unable to trap it, as who could be sure when a soul left the fabric of humanity and went elsewhere. 

I had the nagging suspicion that mine was already gone, even before I had truly died. I thought, in some private paranoia that if it truly had broken free it would be off in some dark earthy place working against me. Souls were slimy little things. They wriggled around and around, looking for new bodies to crawl into. I had not seen one happened when a soul crawled inside a new host, nor did I care too. This wasn’t about the restoration of the church boy. Oh no. 

This was to give him the satisfaction of crushing his enemies under foot. He could watch the little slug splatter to nothing below his well-kept boots, and find peace beyond in the lands of the dead. That would be my gift to him, if I were permitted on the same plane once I expired. 

They would’ve let him go somewhere good, surely. He was meant for relaxing places with meals taken care of and pleasant conversations. Somewhere with gardens for strolling. We’d never gotten around to discussing interests. I would never know what to give him for Yule or what ladies to push him towards at balls. We’d just never made it that far. 

How cruel to realize our friendship five minutes before his death- if even that. I knew nothing of him and he meant so much. I knew everything of Frigga and the scope of her importance was immeasurable. 

I had to leave them behind and become the crow. 

It was harder then I thought it was going to be. Leaving any place I suppose is always harder than you assume it will be. Sure it easy to talk about getting out, but the thing is actually getting out brings with it such a series of complications that nobody actually leaves. 

Except me. The crow must fly her nest and go and seek the eyes of the wicked. 

Promising to return I closed the door of the mausoleum and said my goodbyes to the names on the headstones. People I never knew but who was surely of some importance if they merited their own headstones. Chester A. Kingsley. Pietro Cosimo Andrea Vellucci. Something familiar about those two last names. Something I couldn’t place- like the rules to games known only in childhood. Growing up they were forgotten. 

I closed the gate behind me. It had no lock and before long it would be looted and ravaged by grave robbers desperate for something that wasn’t going to be of any use to the dead hands that held it. I could forgive them in times like these. I could, but would the crow? 

To the south it was then, making my direction by the moon I began to leave the place of the dead to hunt the living. The cloak of feathers dragged the ground behind me, as elegant robes. I remembered being a part of something like this before, walking ancient halls with tails of cloth behind me. Surely it was not a wedding, but perhaps a coronation. A ceremony of some import. 

Leave them behind and let the crow take wing. It was time for the hunts to begin. The road out of the city was desolate. What I had once known to be a bustling place crawling with merchants and farmers, reeking of strange spices and sweaty people was now closer to a desert then anything else. White puffs of dry earth came up with each step. I could see my foot steps laid out behind me. They were darker where the white dust had come away, and clearly marked my path. Unfortunate that I must continue as a flightless crow. If I had wings no one would be able to follow me. 

That was an aribtray concern, a luxury to worry about almost. Who had the time to chase birds when the world was falling apart. 

I hadn’t even thought to bring anything with me besides the eye and the sword and the chains. Travelers brought packs with them, some way to carry food or bedding. Oddly none of that seemed to concern me. Food would be taken care of when I slayed those on my list. I would nest in their stolen things. The beds would be provided to be, previous occupant no longer needing them. How kind of them to leave parting gifts. 

Frith lay far beyond the hills, the place where the Tournament of the Black Rabbit was going to be held. I had never been there before, but now that paths connected kingdoms I didn’t worry of missing it. Footprints spread out behind with nothing but horizon ahead- when was the last time I had gone roaming? 

I hadn’t minded the emptiness at first, but as I continued it got to me. The fields had been untended this season. A few stood in good condition nearest the city, I suppose a few were bound to propser, those who were lucky enough to not have caught ill. 

I couldn’t stand to look at them, the neat fields made me as furious as the scraggly ones. Those who were lucky enough were horrid for not being able to have my beloved amongst their numbers. Those who did fall to the White Blindness let the world far apart. There was no coming out on top for either side. I walked down the middle, unable to be infected yet it still stole from me. 

I had walked half the day away, before I saw anything else. That included animal life. There were no flies to buzz around the dead cows that littered the fields. I only passed dead clumps of them, looking like scattered seeds. The flowers were bleached. I brushed against one, but just the slightest touch caused them to crumple into piles. I could not bring my love a bouquet of dust. 

When I did finally come across something living, I soon wished otherwise. To see someone, old bent and coughing just seconds from expiration. To offer water, if only it could be had. If only any remaind untainted in these farms of pestilence. 

I kept my mask over my eyes, but took a step towards him. Not a job for my sword perhaps, but merciful blades could be employed. I removed the curved knives from my cloak, bringing them together in a cross above my head, an X to mark the spot. He saw. 

There was a moment where I thought he was going to resist, to carry on bravely as Frigga did now. His life had been long though, and even without the god pinned to the moon, it was likely he could not have carried on long. He nodded and it was just a matter of uncrossing the blades while they were set against his neck. The crow could tip both ends of the scale, tempering the vengeful with the virtuous. 

I didn’t know his name, nor what to do with the body, beyond consume it. The journey might be a long one, and I couldn’t turn my nose up at meals willingly offered. To eat in the open, how long had it been. There had been a time when willing sacrifices like this were plentiful. Rows upon rows in any body I might have wanted. Their skin was washed so they wouldn’t smell. They were fed fruits to sweeten their blood. 

But it had been forevers and forevers ago that I had known this. I carried on, brushing the days of feasting away like the dust and dirt already choking the streets. I had a long way to go. 

There was no way to judge the time, but for the exhaustion I felt in my own legs. They were beyond the strength of men but they were not endless. The sun did not rise, the moon did not set. The sky never changed and the stars could not come out to play, tucked away under red blankets. I missed them. In a graveyard they had become like friends, or at least like familiar wallpaper. A decoration for my lonely lodging. 

I had heard that crows liked shiny things. Was it so wrong to miss the stars as one missed a person? I missed everything. Fwahe missed everything. Why was it so hard to leave her behind and become the crow? 

“Please.” 

I turned around, scanning the tree line. 

It came again, a small pleading voice. 

“Who’s there!” I shouted, gripping the handle of my sword. The moment my hand locked around the grip it sparkled with green light. That should not have happened- I’d fed it no blood. Was the meal from earlier still dirtying me? I looked down but saw not a trace. 

“Please.” 

The voice was inside the sword. It was Kohso’s voice. 

“What?” I asked, turning the blade flat and looking into the glimmering cosmos. “What is it church boy? What’s wrong?” 

“Please…I want to take the wings off.” 

I didn’t have any wings. Was it something of the cloak that was not ok. I unclipped it immediately, letting black feathers fall to the ground, there was only chain and fabric and flesh beneath. I feared nothing in these open grounds, for everyone had gone away .Vunerability was a thing of the past. 

He wouldn’t stop pleading to take the wings off. He would not shut up about the wings. I had taken them off, there they lay. I shouted at him. I turned the sword twaords the cloak I had cast onto the ground so that he might see- if he could see. If it were him. He wouldn’t stop, begging like some one gone mad. There were tears in his words. 

I tried re-sheathing the sword, slinging it back across my shoulder, but for hours it carried on. 

“I want to take the wings off but I can’t. I fly, but when I fly I never get off the ground. It’s my curse- it’s my eternal curse. I want to take the wings off but I can’t! It’s my curse, my unholy curse! I want to take the wings off! Please! Take them off! Please!” 

“Shut up!” I screamed. 

Finally, finally there was silence. The swords glimmer faded and it was nothing but old steel again. I brought it close to my chest, hugging it like a precious thing, never mind the bites it took, the blood it loosed. The swords edge bit me but it didn’t hurt, not like this. 

“I’m sorry.” I said. 

I was grateful the roads were empty, someone would have tried to put me in a madhouse. I let myself cry over the departed for a moment more, before the sword was set down so that the cloak might be thrown over my shoulders once more. Leave Fwahe behind and become the crow. Separate the two by whatever means nessecary, that is what I needed to do, but now I considered letting them inhabit the same place at the same time. 

I clutched one of the chains over my body in my fist. I could feel the imprint of it in on my palm, jewels and crosses. Kohso’s chain. I wasn’t going to forget. 

“Give your wings to me.” I said, “I can take the wings for you.” 

The sword didn’t glow but I felt new weight on my shoulders all the same. It was a satisfying kind of weight- a burden that I could manage. Onwards for the tournament of the black rabbit. The sky started to change when my feet started to ache. They would’ve started to bleed if I wasn’t so accustomed to traveling barefoot. 

The sky went from red to pale white. There were no stars and the trees stayed black while the fields stayed dead. 

I passed things. Alive or dead I did not know but they were sat on fence posts. They were all wrong. Masks put over their faces and dressed up too nice for where they were situated. This was different then Sunday best, this was startched lace collars that had never once seen a stain. Fresh off mannequins and tailored to fit. 

One wore a goat’s head, the next a cat’s. After that came a stork and a horse, a squirrel and yet more designs. Lots of goats and lambs, I noticed they popped up more frequently than any of the others. I pulled my mask further down over my head, making sure to blend in with the strangeness of everything. 

“Hey crow!” 

A little goat-boy hopped off the fencepost. His face- his mask was charcoal grey and he wore a plum suit and fitted knickers. He was in front of me but I paid him no mind. 

“Crow!” He called again. 

That roused his friends and they all hopped off their posts. They came from in front of me, behind me and too all sides. In seconds I was encircled by the masked children. Girls in dresses so full of ruffles they looked like wedding cakes. Polished shoes were getting white dust on the edges. I never paid attention to things like that, but when confronted with something so starched and new and untouched, the slightest scuff showed. 

“Why do you jingle so much crow?” Asked a girl who was also a white cat with black ears. 

“He’ll never let her pass.” Said the goat-boy, “She’s not like us.” 

If he meant I wasn’t a freaky child with a strange mask- well. Maybe I was a little bit like them. “Who do you mean?” 

“Moto Maji.” Said a boy in suspenders and ruffled shirt, “Moto Maji the snake-king. He won’t let any humans past, and you don’t seem fully animagus to me.” 

“Why do you jingle, Crow?” The little cat asked. 

“Have you ever seen a crow before?” I asked. 

The strange things that stood in a circle passed glances back and forth between each other. It seemed that no one had seen a crow before and that gave me an advantage. 

“We have not seen a crow before.” The little goat answered, “So neither has Moto Maji.” 

“Why do you make so much noise, Crow?” The little cat persisted. 

“All crows must carry their treasure, their bells to chase away bad spirits.” I said. I was pulling from old stories that a little scholar had told me. She collapsed of White Blindness almost instantly, weak lungs, so they said. Frigga and I had buried her someplace special, sneaking beneath the library so that she might rest with her books. 

“Bad spirits?” The little squirrel asked. 

“Yes.” I continued, I had to spin stories on the spot. This was easier with the stupid little constable-made hero. Hari Harel, that’s what they’d called him. “Every crow is born surrounded by bad luck. It is what their eggs are crafted from and when they break free it turns their feathers black.” 

I gave a dramatic turn so that they could all see the cloak. Some of them gasped, as though feathers were a brand-new concept. Fresh introduced. They must have seen birds before, amongst their masks were storks and robins. 

“The bells are charms. They scare the bad spirits, so even though we could not escape them we can avoid their effects. The more bells the better. Every crow carries as many as she can.” 

That seemed to satisfy them, until a little stork had something to say. 

“Well I too am a bird.” She began, “But tell me Crow, why are your feet left bare? I have fine red shoes and you have nothing but pale little stalks. You are not a Crow but a black flower sure to wither.” 

“On the contrary.” I said, “All crows must have bare feet. Again it is because of the spirits who chase us. They like to shrink themselves to any bit of clothing they can, untying laces and chewing through leather. With only my flesh, my bells and my wings there is nothing for them to follow.” 

They showed the same reverence towards my dirty feet as they had towards my cape. It seemed even more ridiculous, but I could play along. I could be good. I had learned to tell stories instead of start fights. There was no reason to leave more dead in my path- the man had satisfied my stomach I did not need to eat anything more. 

“That is all well and good.” Said the little goat, the first one who had spoken, “But why do you carry a sword? Surely Crows have claws and no need for weapons.” 

“That is because I must pass through here and compete in the tournament of the Black Rabbit.” I said. 

At the mention of the tournament they scattered. The goat and lamb children bleated and scurried off on all fours. The stork-girl was able to take wing and fly. I did not want to be on this ground a second longer. I was ready for their snake king. I carried on and the sky slowly shifted from pale white to gentler cream, like a role of parchment above me. Look though I might I could not see the spirit pinned to the moon. 

Perhaps the White Blindness did not reach here, but something surely had. I could not led it grasp hold of me too. I vowed, another vow, to stand strong and oppose it so that I might return the same as ever before and rescue Frigga from the poisoned castle. 

The animal-children had scattered in every direction, except the one I continued on in. A few yards beyond their fence posts and farm yards the road wound away from country fields and into deep woods. A filmy tunnel had been placed over the road, some kind of thin tubing carved with tiny scales. I stepped inside and realized there was a coating of the same material over the road below. It crackled under foot and broke to smaller pieces under my feet. 

The strength of it was something like eggshells, not very durable. A thin coat of falling leaves had piled atop the strange tunnel, but I did not think the roof of it would hold forever. It would be best to plan a swift exit from this place. The crunching of the tunnels floor echoed in my ears as I sped over it. At times it would twist slightly to one side or the other of the path, catching itself on trees or roots it would seem. 

I came to realize this was no man mad structure, but the shed skin of an enormous snake. This must have been the one that they called Moto Maji, the serpent king. I was not afraid to walk through his skeletal skin. It seemed I would come to meet the monarch after walking through the cavaties of his stomach. I would not let him swallow me a second time. 

Moments like these were usually the ones when I found comfort in my grip on the sword, but after hearing Kohso’s voice so distressed and being unable to control the sword’s glow I decided to leave it across my back. I took the knives instead, cleaned of dead man’s blood and ready for a fight if it came. 

My crunching steps were the only sounds in the dead woods. I had to view them through the thin skin of the snake. Sometimes there would be a small break, a place where the tunnel hadn’t quite connected right and the true color of the world would be present once more without its scaled overlay. There was not much to see, most of it just parchment sky and charcoal tress. Other colors were only little dabbling brush strokes of rust and iridescent green, dead bugs dotted over the tree trunks. 

The crunching got louder. I looked down to find I was walking over bone. I walked through the ghost of the snake’s mouth to stand at the base of a cliff scattered with skulls. My feet would be torn to pieces by the stray shards of bone that had replaced the cobblestones, things from every species. Humans of course, I could tell by their ribcages and skinned hands. Most of the skeletons that covered the ground were human, but it was not an exclusive collection. I thought there was a cow, and perhaps a crocodile but the rest were too jumbled to make better sense of. 

In the side of the cliff, a few hundred feet overhead was the opening of a massive cave. Shining, just a little ways inside were two enormous yellow eyes- the eyes of the serpent king. 

A great hissing sound spilled down the edges of the cliff and crackled over bone before reaching my ears. It was such a strange frequency and tone that I stood, dumbly with my head cocked to the side for several moments before I realized the hissing was words. Longer still to puzzle out their meaning, but after a time I had it. 

“Moto Maji sees a bird in his cage.” 

“I do not wish to tarry here.” I said, “My purpose is not with you but beyond.” 

“All purposes that step through the skin Moto Maji leaves behind, become his own. You stand now on the bones of those whose causes were not worthy to pass Moto Maji.” 

“Is that all it takes?” I asked, “A worthy cause?” 

“No.” He hissed, “But Moto Maji finds it is a good start.” 

With that he emerged from the cave, and I found I was wrong. There were not two eyes but three. I had not been able to see the third as it was blocked by the ceiling of the cave. The serpent king was so large around that his sides were scraping those of the cavern. He fit into the rocky outcropping like a sword in a sheath- hardly any room to spare. 

His scales were the unknowable color of the cosmos- a black that was not black but somehow blue and purple mixed together, and deeper then anything had a right to be. Rich like wine and red meat. On the top of his wedge-shaped head, behind the central eye was a white marking that resembled a tall crown. The serpent-king indeed. 

“So why have you come?” He asked. 

“I need to pass through to fight in the Tournament of the Black Rabbit.” I said. 

“Ah, the bird seeks glory.” Moto Maji said, “That is a selfish goal. For a prize like that Moto Maji was better to stay in his cave and let his children eat you.” 

There was a wretched scuttling sound. I watched as black beetles, of every shape and kind came scuttling out of the dark recesses in Moto Maji’s piles of bones. They opened their little beetle mouths and I saw sharp teeth. One of them had the distinct horn-like appendage of a Rhino beetle and when it opened its mouth there was a chunk of skin caught on one of his teeth. The serpent-kings legion was small in stature but the flesh-eating beetles were numerous and clearly performed well for their king. 

“I do not enter for glory!” I was quick to correct. 

“Why then?” He questioned. 

“There is a girl at home-“ I began. 

“Love is as foolish as glory.” Moto Maji hissed, “If not more so.” 

“She is dieing!” I shouted. 

My words sounded weak when they came bouncing off the Cliffside, back into my ears. Hearing it myself and known all of the weight behind the exclamation- I was still unable to take it seriously. Moto Maji let out a hissing laugh. 

“Take a look around, little bird. The world is dieing. The gods scream in the sky and the children fall out of their chairs. Everywhere there is coughing sickness. Moto Maji’s own have suffered casuaulity. White blindness is not carried by men alone. It will infect Moto Maji’s children and the days of his armies will be few and final, but they will contain a victory over you.” 

“That is not why I’m fighting!” I said. 

“You change your story a lot, little bird.” Moto Maji pointed out. 

“You never let me finish talking.” I said. 

He nodded to bid me continue. 

“There is a man who pinned the god to the sky. He is a wicked man and I wish to destroy him. I have committed myself to taking the souls of the corrupt and bringing them to heel. I enter the Tournament of the Black Rabbit because the man favored to win killed an innocent church boy out of jealously and corruption. He painted it as a noble act and received commendation. I want to take his soul so that I might return it to the one he stole life from.” 

“Revenge?” Moto Maji asked. 

“Yes, your majesty.” I said, “Revenge.” 

He smiled, “Moto Maji knows of no cause with more worth.” 

Well at least I had passed the first of his tests. Moto Maji did not call back his beetles. While I waited to find out what the serpent-king intended before he would grant me passage I watched them. They were strangely comforting, when I should have found them a harrowing sight. Like scrubbing away dirt from something long unused and gone to tarnish, Moto Maji’s beetles picked away at the flesh of the unworthy souls who littered the serpent-king’s Cliffside. Take away the soul, the flesh, the blood, everything. Take it always and there was only ever white bones underneath. 

Were his beetles so different from the purification rituals of the church- dip a man in water to wash away his sins and make him clean again. Kohso had spoken of such things, though where the sin was on that boy I could not tell you. All the same I had a job to do, I could not afford to be picked apart by the tiny creatures. I must not let them chew my feathers and ground me here nor drink toasts with my blood. 

“So the little bird is clever of mind and clear of purpose, but does she know her true destination?” The serpent-king asked. 

“I seek the kingdom of Frith.” I said. 

“And how will the little bird get there? Surely if she could fly she would not have walked through Moto Maji’s woods.” He replied. 

“I will follow the path.” I said, “Walk the road until I see the three-sun standard that marks Frith’s highest house. I will spy the alabaster spires of the grand castle and see in the distance the oval of arena that begs for competiton.” 

“Ah yes.” Moto Maji said, “There is comfort in roads isn’t there, little bird.” 

I did not reply to him, nor either did he press me further. There was no need for response- for he clearly had his next task in mind. He turned his head from one side to the other, a dramatic gesture. I was caught by his eyes, like magnets they pulled me back and forth the motion of his slitted pupils; hypnotic. 

I was helpless but for to follow them. 

“Look around little bird.” Moto Maji instructed. He did not give me time to actually do so before speaking again. “Moto Maji sees no path but the one behind you. You have come to the cliffs. The path runs out. What will you do now?” 

“I will go back, and find another way.” I said. 

Moto Maji smiled, and it was really something for a snake of that size to smile. “There is no other way. Moto Maji is the only one who knows the path beyond. Before the sky went crimson and Moto Maji’s beetles were terrified by the screaming of gods- there was a river one could take to subvert this trial. The river has dried up, and you will find only one path remains.” 

I followed his center eye, which turned upwards looking back at the cave he had unsheathed himself from. That must be the path and if I had to cross through caves then so be it. 

“Moto Maji will of course, give you a few moments head start.” He informed me, “But the hunt is unending, and it had been a long time since Moto Maji caught a bird for his children.” 

I could search all I wanted too, but I wasn’t going to find a better alternative. I nodded and began to climb the side of the cliff. It was a craggy old thing with plenty of handholds. So long as I was careful to test them before setting my full weight to any one particular spot I had no trouble climbing the wall. Moto Maji waited below. 

“Alright, little bird.” He said, “Go into the cave. Moto Maji will wait below and count to the highest number he can. Then he will come after you. In the caves you will not be able to see and you will not be able to fly. Not many make it through.” 

I didn’t care how slim the chances. If worse came to worse I could cut the serpent king open and crawl through his guts once again. He would not get the best of me. I took a deep breath then started in through the mouth of the cave. It was cold and damp inside, walls slick with foreign moisture. I thought of Frigga. I thought of Kohso. Then I heard the serpent-king counting below me. There was no time to loose. I went inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think, thank you for taking the time to read!


	3. I Try to Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things worsen for poor sweet Kohso

His Lordship of course had to go first. He had to prove that the cliff could be climbed at all, before I was allowed to touch the side of it. He didn’t seem to have any difficulty and once he’d reached a suitable distance he reversed course and came down to assist Her Ladyship. We had done our best to make her journey a comfortable one, but it was still a make shift harness laid against battered partially grown wings. 

“You follow my ever foot step crow-boy. One by one. Step by step.” His Lordship instructed. “If I grab a rock, you grab that same rock.” 

“Yes, your Lordship.” I said. 

This wasn’t the first time today that I’d endured the same lecture. Her Ladyship would have us away as soon as possible, but His Lordship had convinced her it would be better if we rested briefly. I was commanded to sleep and regain my strength, thankful to find that at Her Ladyship’s instruction sleep came easily to my weary body. 

When attaching the hastily constructed harness to my back, His Lordship had leaned close to my ear and assured me that once we reached the summit I would make up for the rest I’d gotten. My next session of repentance would be excruciating. I had to keep reminding myself that these were generous, charitable acts from His Lordship. He would not punish me if he did not care for me, and wish to see me free of infection once more. 

I had to remember or I’d find myself hating him. No, hate was too strong. I couldn’t hate them, hate was just part of the sickness. Her Ladyship warned me about hating things. Resent, that was closer too it. I had to remember or I might find myself resenting His Lordship. 

“Let’s go.” Her Ladyship said, “We cannot tarry any longer.” 

“Are you certain you are properly secured?” I asked. 

“Yes Kohso.” She said with a weary sigh, “Now climb.” 

I did as instructed. His Lordship went first and true to his word pointed out all of the rocks I need grab. The pressure was enormous both mentally and physically. My back felt like it was going to break. The ropes that held Her Ladyship secure pressed down on my shoulders with such force, all of it wanting to tear her away and toss her to the ground. I thought they might cut right through my chest and leave me armless, but they just dug their fibers against my skin and rubbed painfully. I could endure that. 

Being clawed came as an advantage in this trial. His Lordship often warned that one area would be particularly difficult to grasp, but I never had trouble with it. My hands held stronger than his and were made for things like these. If only there wasn’t such weight on my back it would’ve been an easy- almost pleasant climb. 

I liked to climb. 

Yes I remember now. I liked to climb the church rooftops and look at the setting sun. That was a genuine private memory, something Her Ladyship wouldn’t have known. I wanted to shout it, but instead I kept it hidden, sealed the key with silence. I liked to climb church rooftops. That was something about me that only I knew. 

Even with my rediscovery of the rapture in climbing away from the world- the Cliffside was perilous. One wrong move and it would spell death. His Lordship did not always get his footing right, and gave bad directions several times. I was torn between listening and doing what I thought was steadier- who was I to think? Even if the course was shaking and unstable, he must know the way. I wasn’t to think I was to follow. 

The harness was hard to manage. We should’ve spent more time constructing it. Often my legs became tangled in the ropes, forcing my next step not only to be delicate, but somehow a twisting motion that would slip out of whatever nooses the ropes tried to catch me up in. I stretched for an outcropping, if I could just join His Lordship atop it then we might have a moment of rest before we continued on. We had only made it a quarter of the way up, and had far to go. 

I had gotten one of my arms over, onto the flat surface, and there was a rock beneath my left foot that I could kick off of to propel the rest of me aloft. I adjusted my grip and readied myself for the little jump. A second before I flung myself up I felt one of the ropes start to slip. The only thing that moved fast enough were my eyes, which darted to the right and saw one of the knots over my shoulder slip loose. Gods condemn me, I should have checked His Lordship’s handiwork a third time before we started. 

The whole harness started to shift. She was coming undone. Another second and she would be slammed against the Cliffside, swung free. Ropes closed around my legs and waist, pulling me along with her. My arms were slipping, I was to be pulled aside too. 

“Alois!” Kane screamed. 

I couldn’t let her smash against the Cliffside- she would turn to dust. 

I never thought the infection would become salvation, but like iron melting in its cauldron, suddenly my malformations spilled forth into their mold and forged a weapon. Out of my left shoulder a wing sprouted, pushing itself through flesh and shoulder bone. I screamed from the pain, but it shot between the wall of rock and Her Ladyship, enveloping her and keeping her safe from injury. 

His Lordship dug his hands into me, gripping fistfuls of matted feathers to pull me and her Her Ladyship up onto the ledge. The jagged sides scraped my stomach as I was hauled over. My wing was wrapped around Her Ladyship, pressing her closer to my back while she stayed tangled in the slipping harness. It seemed impossible that we would’ve made it, but we did. 

I lay against the ledge, gasping for breath. My arms shook with strain and my heart pounded, anxious- unable to believe that I was alive. 

“Alois?” His Lordship asked throwing my new feathers aside. 

“I am fine.” She said, “Kohso protected me.” 

“He nearly killed you!” His Lordship growled, bending over me and starting to furiously unbind the harness. “He was going to let you fall!” 

“Never.” I said, working hard to speak through heavy breaths. 

“Do not speak!” His Lordship commanded. His boot met my side. 

“Stop it, Kane.” She said, coming to my defense, “It was your lack of care that almost cost my life. You tied that strap over his shoulder, he could not have done that himself. You were supposed to-“ 

“I’m taking you the rest of the way up.” His Lordship interrupted. 

He tried to manipulate her onto his back while she was still in the rope contraption, but she deftly stepped aside. Her hairs were all astray and the cape over her shoulders sat twisting and uneven, but still Her Ladyship carried the bearings of royalty in her stance. She was a woman you wanted to bow too, and the fact that His Lordship’s back did not bend showed just how uncommonly strong he must be. 

“You will take me nowhere.” She said, “It is not for you to decide how we surpass this obstacle. Your will is not needed to complete this task. You have failed me once already, and it is only because the gods granted Kohso a miracle I was able to survive.” 

“His infection happened to mature at the proper time.” His Lordship argued, “That is not a miracle.” 

“It is hardly our choice to make.” She said, “Kohso, do you not feel blessed?” 

Accosted by sudden question I was unprepared to answer. The both of them looked down at me and I pushed myself off my stomach, onto my knees. The weight of the wing tried to pin me down. It had not evened out across my other shoulder, the wing that grew there was still small and shriveled. 

“I am grateful I had the chance to protect you, your Ladyship.” I said, “Still, I want to take the wings off- but I can’t.” 

“I will remove them for you, once we have stepped through the mirror and I am my proper self once more.” She promised. 

His Lordship said nothing. In this place without life we rested on the Cliffside, neither of us speaking to the others. We did not need to eat or drink as we had in life- that would take some adjusting too when we again reached the surface. Her Ladyship made a careful inspection of her hand, tracing the empty space in her palm with long fingernails. 

“It will come back.” His Lordship said. 

She nodded, “We must reach the castle soon. I fear my time grows short.” 

“Then he will have had enough rest.” His Lordship said. 

He made a big show of reattaching the harness. All of the ropes were pulled tighter then before, their knots done through, once, twice and thrice to ensure there would be no more mistakes. They scratched my skin raw even before Her Ladyship’s weight was there to pull them down. The wing was a burden of its own, everything became much heavier. At least it was something to curl around her, to shield her from the sifting sand and silt above us. Every little rock that hit her took a bit of Her Ladyship with it. 

Since he had been proven wrong and careless before I started to ignore the shiftier places His Lordship told me to stand on. My own abilities had saved us both before- perhaps it was my wits that would get us past this barricade. Like old words to familiar songs, everything came back in a rush. I knew how to climb and hopped to it quickly. His Lordship shouted at me to slow down and stay behind him, and had to voice his sentiment several times before I actually heard it. Trance-like I had let my own instinct take over and had gone several feet above him. 

“S-sorry your Lordship!” I shouted, “I just saw a safe path.” 

“Let him continue.” Her Ladyship said from behind the curtain of black feathers. 

“Alois you can’t-“ 

“Let him continue.” She said. 

I kept climbing until the sky went dark and I couldn’t see an inch in front of me. We had to retreat and recline on rocky outcropping once more. It caused us an hour’s loss of travel for trying to push ahead when we should’ve stayed at the cave His Lordship found around dusk. Her Ladyship and I had wanted to press on, but now he smiled over me, face pinched with superiority. 

I musn’t let myself think such things. His Lordship had only the best in mind for me. 

“Please make sure he stays quiet tonight.” Her Ladyship said, “And don’t tire him out beyond his capacity. We still have to reach the summit tomorrow.” 

“You won’t hear a thing.” His Lordship said. “We’re going to skip the lessons and go straight to the atonements tonight.” 

Before His Lordship took me that night he tied my wing up, using ropes and canvas scraps from the harness. He said he was tired of feathers, they got in the way. His Lordship forced part of his cotton shirt into my mouth to keep me quiet while he pulled out all the feathers he said were getting in his way- the ones I couldn’t have possibly needed. It was the same as the nights before but worse because His Lordship was angry. I thought he would heed his sisters’ advice and let me have an easy night so that the climb the next day would not strain me. 

It was not so. 

“You think I don’t see what you’re trying to do?” His Lordship whispered in my ear. His breath made them go red as blood from inside ran down my thighs. He was tearing me apart. “You are trying to steal away my sweet sister- you want to seduce and devour her.” 

I tried to protest but my mouth was stuffed with cotton. I answered him in tears and shakes of the head but he wasn’t interested in hearing what I might’ve said. 

“Perhaps she cannot see through your illusion, but I know there are worms inside of you. You’re just a nasty little crow-boy, mind bent on lifting skirts and soiling sweet girls.” 

I shook my head again. No that wasn’t me. That couldn’t have been me. I liked to climb church rooftops. I remembered that. I didn’t remember any of what Her Ladyship told me, about the bordellos where I left courtesans with their chests ripped open. I tried and tried, they deserved to be remembered, but there was nothing. I couldn’t recall any of it. It wasn’t me. It couldn’t have been me. 

But it was. Everything His Lordship did to me was nothing- I should be grateful. I had been- but now he wasn’t teaching. He made no attempt to give me a lesson; he just spoke soft and low so that Her Ladyship wouldn’t hear. 

“You want to bed her- don’t you little crow boy?” He asked. 

Of course not I did not. It wasn’t just that Her Ladyship was elevated far above me, up to the untouchable astral plane of the gods. I didn’t feel that way about her. If I were to love anyone so much to take them behind closed doors, I wanted to feel equal. Of course I adored Her Ladyship, but it was the adoration of a servant to their superiors, not between lovers. His Lordship could not have been more wrong. 

“You should know something.” He said. He nipped my ear with his fangs to bring fresh tears to my eyes before telling me what he thought I should know. “You should know that Alois belongs to me, she is mine and I am the one who will bed her. She’s strong, oh gods I do deny it but there will come a day where she will bend to my will and wait beneath my sheets. Give up your foolish dreams crow-boy. Stop trying to impress her. She is mine.” 

My eyes went wide and I tried to pull away from His Lordship. He shoved me back down, and I screamed from the pain- silent screams in the back of the cave where Her Ladyship was sleeping. His Lordship laughed, a dark and poisonous sound. This wasn’t right. They were relations- he was the elder sibling he ought to have protected his sister not sought to violate her. My hands were fists and I did hate him. 

I shouldn’t have. It was a sinful thing but it was clear to me now that His Lordship, despite all the good he had done 

“You will be so ruined she would never consider you.” He said. 

I didn’t want her too, I didn’t want that from her. If only I could speak then maybe, just maybe he would’ve understood, but His Lordship seemed beyond understanding. He didn’t stop until the sun came up. He was going to send me up the cliff without rest and without mercy. He had clawed at me and that blood mixed with blood from other parts. I wanted to pull myself out of it, to sleep on cleaner ground but I just couldn’t move. I slept with my wing tied up, and when, as always His Lordship’s boot came to my side to wake me it was crooked and sore. 

I crawled, to the mouth of the cave where Her Ladyship sat. She took one look at me, and I could see her face contort with disgust. I hung my head. 

“Kane!” She shouted. 

He appeared, carrying the harness along with him. “Yes my-“ 

Her hand was on his throat. It should not have been- she was not strong enough to be gripping things in that manner. 

“Did I not specifically tell you not to tire him beyond capacity?” She asked. 

He looked over at me. “Alois honestly, look at him. He’s an infected roach you can’t expect me to know the limitations of such a creature.” 

“How is he supposed to carry me off a mountain when you’ve made it so that he can’t even stand? Is your appetite so great that it is beyond control? There are holes in this cave brother, satisfy yourself with one of them and learn to take a command from your superiors.” 

“I am the elder sibling.” His Lordship reminded her, “I was primed to rule.” 

“Yes but you were not taught to fight.” She reminded, “And when we are at war your command cedes to me. Have you forgotten so easily? Did you not remember you were banished Kane, declared unfit to rule? Fortune has put you at my side again- but you sit as a right hand not an equal. “ 

“Yes. Sweet sister.” He agreed through gritted teeth. “I was only trying to purify him faster.” 

She released her grip, “Be that as it may you have now lost us precious time.” 

There was a snap. We all watched in horror as Her Ladyship’s hand broke off at the wrist. It was like a piece of a statue, just frozen from the place it had gripped His Lordship’s throat, rigid as it fell. When it hit the ground it smashed to dust and His Lordship stared in open-mouthed horror at the pile on the ground. I couldn’t tell whether she was going to scream or cry. Her face was frozen. 

No one said anything. The cave echoed with silence. 

All three of us lost our tolerance for it in the same moment and spoke in unison. 

“Alois I-“ He said 

“Kane you have-“ She started 

“I can do it!” I shouted. 

I had spoken loudest, and perhaps with the least respect. They all turned to me. I was still on my knees, my body was still screaming but I knew we couldn’t afford to lose the time. She had just lost her sword-hand, I could afford to exhaust myself more. A day could kill her. She might not be able to sit in a harness tomorrow, we had to move now. 

“I can do it.” I said again. “There’s not much more to climb. I can do it, your Ladyship, your Lordship.” 

“Crow-boy you’re still bleeding.” His Lordship assessed, “You’re not fit to go anywhere.” 

“We- we can’t afford to wait.” I said, “Your Lordship, we can’t slow down on my account. I won’t falter.” 

“Get his harness and unbind his wing.” Her Ladyship commanded. 

“Sister you cannot be serious.” He argued 

“That was not a request!” She snarled. 

He bowed his head and retreated into the cave. She walked over and looked down at me. I had to be strong for her, who had at last shown some of the affection she’d spoken of. She had told His Lordship to be more gentle, she cared for me. I was going to show her I cared for her too. I sunk my claws into the wall of the cave and pulled myself upright. My legs begged to shake but I wouldn’t let them, they had quivered enough last night. I kept my head bowed, did not look Her Ladyship in the eye, but tried to stand tall all the same. 

“Get me up the mountain.” She said. 

“Yes, your Ladyship.” I said, “I will not fail you.” 

His Lordship was brutal with the harness. He wanted to make me fall on my knees again- I could tell. Every pull on the ropes was tighter then the last. He channeled all the energy he’d saved from last night, from the negation of a lesson and put it into these knots. They might as well have been strokes from the whip- but I did not fall. Cries of pain could not be helped, but my legs stood firm. 

“Kohso will climb in front.” Her Ladyship specified. “If he falls you must catch us Kane. Save us both if you are able, if not let him fall.” 

He nodded. 

When she assured the both of us that she was as comfortable as could be allowed in the harness we were instructed to begin. The first step was horrible, the second no better. I know Her Ladyship hated my gasps and moans, I’d never forget the shame of her asking me to quiet myself and the punishment I’d endured afterwards. Instead of screaming against the ache in my legs and the pull on the ropes I bit my teeth and dug into the handholds all the deeper. 

It was a much slower climb then the day before. I couldn’t push on as I had, and the breaks I took were more frequent. Her Ladyship did not protest, but I know she was displeased. Every time I stopped I had to turn away so that I might rub some life back into my legs. More than once it brought on scratches, irritating tender flesh. Turned away I must’ve looked like a deviant, but neither of them made comment. 

His Lordship seemed to have decided not to speak at all. He stayed a step below me and all I ever got from his was glares and sideways glances. I knew he wanted Her Ladyship on his back, he wanted to be the hero of this journey. I would’ve gladly stepped back and let him, but I had to follow her commands. She had told me to carry her up the mountain. What did it matter if my shoulder shivered and threatened to collapse inside of my collarbone? I had a job to do. I would not fail her. Commands gave me new strength. 

She was not the type to praise a job well done, especially one that was being completed so slowly, but I noticed small smiles whenever we came over another ridge. The summit was within sight, only a few hundred feet further. If I could only push forward a little more. 

I grabbed for a hand hold, but like powder it crumbled away beneath me. Everything spun and slipped. My feet were scrabbling but there was nothing beneath them, noting except- something silky. Even in my moment of panic my face flushed with embarrassment as I used the top of His Lordship’s head to regain my balance. 

“Sorry!” I shouted, the second of stability all I needed before finding firmer footing, better holds. 

“Find a ledge. Take a break.” Her Ladyship commanded. “Better to reach the top slowly then to fall so close to victory.” 

“Yes, your Ladyship.” I said, ashamed. 

There was one last ledge, and it would be our last rest before making it to the top. I was eager to be finished with this- hoping that atonement tonight would come swiftly and that I might sleep. 

“He clawed me.” His Lordship snarled as we settled along the crooked overhang. “The crow-boy nearly took my eye out.” 

“You can punish him for it after we reach the top.” Her Ladyship sighed, “Though if you become overzealous again I fear I will have to wait until we’ve reached the land of the living, and find myself a new enforcer, one who can follow simple orders.” 

“I will control myself.” He assured her. 

She let me have a long rest, even commanding His Lordship to take off the harness so that I might get an hours rest, lying down. Her generosity astounded me. It felt so good to lie down, and took everything I had not to weep. I was able to sleep but it felt like it was only for a moment. I was astonished to be awoken not by the toe of His Lordship’s boot, but by her gentle fingers tapping against my cheek. 

“It is time to go.” She said. 

He was just as brutal in re-attaching the harness but I protested less and had new strength. The final stretch of mountain was the most difficult, it was heavily eroded. Most of it crumbled away at the slightest touch, became powdery and unusable for our purposes. Everything had to be touched lightly before gradually applying pressure to ensure that it held. Her Ladyship was smart to have rested me. I would’ve surely fallen or made hasty decisions. 

Sometimes my chain, which trailed behind me, would catch on a root or a rock. 

At last, at last I could see the view from the summit. I pulled shaking arms up onto the gnarled crab grass that grew on the top of the peak. My stomach was once more scratched by the edge of the cliff, but I didn’t care. On that grassy, muddy field there was sweet release. His Lordship was up shortly after me, yanking the knots out of the harness while I laid flat on the grass below. I just couldn’t make myself move another inch. 

Her Ladyship was off my back and the harness was taken away. I felt like I could breathe again, sucking fresh air down my lungs in greedy gulps. 

“On your feet, crow-boy.” His Lordship barked, taking my chain in his hands and giving it a yank, “We’ve still got far to go.” 

“Y-yes, your Lordship.” I stammered, quickly rising and following after the both of them. There was a path clearly marked through a sparse forest. Beyond appeared to be nothing but fields, and then at the top of a great hill was the crumbling silhouette of a black castle. That must be where we were headed. It seemed to me a day or two’s journey before we would reach this much spoken of mirror. 

Her Ladyship had said I would be able to split it and somehow break through to the land of the living, pulling the both of them along with me. I was so used to being led, being pulled that dragging anyone else anywhere was an impossible feat. 

It was easier to walk then to climb. I did not have to calculate my every footstep and breath came easier. I was proud to see Her Ladyship standing so tall and walking without faltering. It gave me strength to do the same, despite His Lordships’ constant tugs on the chain. 

There could be no mistaking it now. He was trying to trip me, trying to get me to fail. He wanted to be the hero. I hadn’t meant to step into the position, I didn’t want any glory I just wanted to keep Her Ladyship safe. If that made me so easily hated then I would take all of His Lordship’s scorn. My shoulders were weak but they could bear it. 

Gods, this wing was heavy. Walking with it was a nightmare, the tip dragged the ground, picking up dirt and twigs. I want to take the wings off, please Saint Annalise, take them off. 

Her Ladyship finally called our travels done for the night when we reached the edge of what I’d thought was a forest. From a distance it may have looked that way, but upon closer inspection it was closer to a swamp. Large patches of brown mud and Spanish moss tumbling down from overhead. A network of vines obscured the sky. This would be a difficult thing to navigate too, perhaps the cliff would not be the last time I bore Her Ladyship on my back. 

“Please keep quiet Kohso.” She said to me, “You have done well today, and it wouldn’t due to ruin that tonight, now would it?” 

“No, your Ladyship.” I replied. 

“Good.” She said. 

My masters bid each other goodnight. His Lordship did not want to disturb her either, and took me a fair distance away. He was eager to fix ropes around me again, and tied me across two trees. He spoke while pulling leaves off a fresh switch, cut from one of the drooping willow branches. 

“You really haven’t done anything wrong today.” He said, “But my sister favors you now and I can’t allow that.” 

I didn’t respond. The hatred I bore His Lordship was growing and I feared the more I spoke to him the worse it would get. He lifted my chin with the end of the switch. 

“You understand of course, that I cannot allow you to be the better man. You are a demon and a sinner, you might confuse my sister. She is weak and crumbling.” 

“Because of you she lost her hand!” I said. 

Too sudden. Too loud. 

“Do. Not. Speak.” His Lordship commanded and then rained down blows, one after the next. Feathers and skin and blood came away. I bit my lip, enough so to bleed to hold in my protests and screams. 

I had to keep enduring this, I realized. When Her Ladyship sought to cure me, I must decline. There must always be something to stand between he and she. His Lordship said he intended to bed her, no doubt to take her as he had taken me. Even when she was strong again I mustn’t allow such things to happen, how could I? 

If I only remained like this- uncured then he would have to continue to punish me. I could take on all the anger and the avarice. I was strong enough to handle the overflow of desire that His Lordship was sodden with. If I were pure again, he would go after Her Ladyship. 

The wings would never come off. I must not let them. I want to take the wings off but I can’t. It is my curse- my eternal curse and I will bear it gladly. 

Blow after blow landed on my back, and when he took me down I did not feel it. I was somehow somewhere else, somewhere that shone gold. I felt a hand on my own, helping me along and someone spoke to me softly. The voice sounded like Her Ladyship’s, but it wasn’t. The northern accent was cut short, clipped to sound more like my own voice. 

I hadn’t come from Cainhurst. My origins lay elsewhere. Yes I remembered now. I was from a city, from a church. This didn’t fit with Her Ladyship’s telling but I could see it clear as day. There I was, and there was the bell tower. I had rung it once, and been scolded. Scrubbing floors, washing dishes, everything came together in a rush of flickering memories. They were like milling spilling out of a bottle, going too fast to stop with no way of pouring them back in. 

The memories changed but the gold light and the warm voice remained. It must’ve been Her Ladyship’s my mind was just making a mess of things. It was no wonder that it did- today had been difficult and I was still being punished for it yet. I must forgive my little slips, they were bound to happen. Someone must’ve planted false memories in my brain, like when His Lordship was in the room with the snail women. 

Her Ladyship had spoken the truth. She would not lie to me. It was best to chase them away and remember the lessons. I had been born the bastard son of a Ferrier. I hadn’t found churches or gods until I found Her Ladyship. I wasted my days in whorehouses and opium dens. I cut open the chests of innocents. 

All of that was true and painted in red. The memories were false and painted in gold. I still reached for them, as red stripes and red blood ran across my body. Everything true was red. I knew it to be so, it had been proven so. Why was it so hard for me to accept? 

Why did I think I was friend to a girl called Fwahe? 

Perhaps she was just the only name I could recall from the ones I left mutilated at their places of immodest employ. I must’ve killed her. 

I said it in my mind, silent enough so that no one could hear. I didn’t want to distract His Lordship from my penance. I didn’t want to wake Her Ladyship from her sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think of this, as its very different from my usual writings. I hope you enjoy.


	4. But When I do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Fwahe be able to escape the Serpent King, Moto Maji?

The caves of the serpent-king were dark and twisting. Even with better vision then any human I knew, a gift of my twisted species I couldn’t make out many of the details. There was safety on a hand against the wall, fingers running over rough rocks so that I might be able to trace my path- but I didn’t want to leave behind any scents I didn’t have too. The ground was filled with pools of water, my sloshing foot-steps echoed around the low ceilings. 

When the pools ended, my feet crossed over bloated flesh and brittle bones. The next step and the water came up sticky. It was not water anymore. Perhaps if I bathed in the blood of deadmen then the serpent-king would be unable to sort me out from his collection of rotting corpses, but I doubted that very much. 

“Times up.” I heard Moto Maji hiss. 

Whatever light had been in the caves before, was gone completely. His body slid in through the entrance and eclipsed the outer world, sealing me in this tunnel like a tomb. There was no way to see. I could feel my heart fluttering in my chest, a butterfly in a wind storm. I worked to settle its wings, panicking was not the way to deal with the serpent-king. 

“Moto Maji can smell you, little bird.” He hissed. 

I was already sure that he could. Best to steady my breathing and continue on, though I could hear him slithering behind me. I wanted, everything in me wanted to run ahead, but then I might miss something. The tunnel appeared to have no branches and lead straight on, curving every now and again. I kept my fingers on the wall, hoping for a break- a nook or another path, something to dash into if the need arose. I didn’t relish the feeling of being cornered without my back truly at the wall. 

In another moment the cave was full of light. The sword had begun to glow again. I could see that the paths beyond were above me, wrought into the low ceilings of the cave. They would not be easy to climb through, but Moto Maji might manage them rather easily. I worried he would see the light, of course he would see the light- how could anyone ignore it. 

I worried more when the sword began to speak. It was loud again, yelling apologies. Never before had someone other than myself been able to hear the boy trapped inside, but he had never spoken with this ferocity before. Again I wanted to comfort him as he pleaded to me for repentance, forgiveness. There was something wrong about the fervent way he went about it- not like a man saying his prayers but like a terrified child sentenced to a hanging. 

I let my fears channel into him, so that he might speak them and I could remain clear-headed. The more urgent his pleading the more steady my breath, the stiller my heart. I couldn’t be afraid, for I must avenge him. It wouldn’t do to leave a pleading church boy alone in the corpse-filled caves of a three eyed snake. 

The climb up into the first tunnel was not so strenuous. I came into a clearing- if the open maw of a cave could be called such, which spiraled away into several chambers. Each was as dark and nonspecific as the last, some littered with bones and spiderwebs. A lot was said about untraveled roads, but no one spoke of the cobwebs which became involuntarily woven in ones hair upon traversing them. Even with the bone mask to block most of their spine-tingling advances the dusty trails of spider-spun silk got everywhere. My cape was covered in them. 

“Moto Maji can hear the click of your chains, little bird.” 

He was getting closer. 

“Come on church boy.” I urged, “Pray for me.” 

He didn’t disappoint. It was probably all just delusions and wish fulfillment, but I thought he was going at it with more vigor then before. So useful for a sinning crow to have a penitent dove watching out for them. 

More caves and more webs and Moto Maji was coming closer. I could hear bones crunching beneath his coils as he sped towards me, all the force of a speeding carriage slowly gaining. I just kept climbing up, taking whichever path led away. My arms were growing tired, and the swords deadweight on my back was no easy burden. The hilt would catch on little rock outcroppings, threatening to throw me back down, but I always found a way to pull through. My strength was stronger than the crumbling caverns. When push came to shove they were pliable powder in my hands. 

If only strength could assist in their navigation. 

“Your wings will not help you here.” He hissed. 

Between the prayers and the hissing I couldn’t hear my own thoughts. Daylight awaited on the other side of the caves, but how was I supposed to see it, blinded by the light of the sword. Was it better to wander in total darkness looking for light with no direction, or have the directions clear but the light obscured? 

Questions for bent-necked philosophers with dirty glasses- these were not the contemplations of crows. My problems were the here and now, not the theoretical scribblings of ink on moth eaten page. How to escape the serpent king? 

“Times up, little bird.” 

I didn’t understand his words until a few seconds later when the glow of the sword landed on nothing but a rock wall. Moto Maji had run me into a dead-end. 

His eyes glowed like my sword did, and here the caverns were wide enough that he could cast the center eye down and all three of the slitted pupils might converge on me, like slashes from a blade ready to spill my guts in three strikes. 

His fangs were taller then trees. 

“Please.” 

Alright church boy. If that’s how its going to be. 

I was not going to end up another pile of bones rotting away like so much pungent trash piled up against crumbling walls. Let the girl Fwahe be left behind, and have the clipped crows wings restored. 

He was done praying, and I was done running. Moto Maji opened his mouth, but before his eye disappeared against the roof of the cave I launched the sword at it. In another second the twin blades were in my hands, another and they were in the other eyes. He let out a deafening hiss, thrashing from one side of the crumbling wall to the other. I was now unarmed, but he was sightless. His enormous jaws came down and I didn’t a waste a second getting my sword back. The church boy inside had gone quiet, but the blade glowed brighter. It had stolen the light from the serpent-king’s eye. That belonged to me now, yellow notes mixing with the blue and green, adding to the cosmos. 

He tried to smash me against the ceiling, but I rolled beyond that group of muscles, finding little spots along the creatures spine, places where coils curled just so that I might duck and stab without fear of being crushed. I had to be ready to leap to action in a moments notice, just as I was quick he too did not waste a second. If I became trapped between Moto Maji’s body and the wall there would be no competition. The wall would win. 

At last there was another escape in the ceiling, yet more layers to climb too. Moto Maji wouldn’t be long before finding me again. Even if he couldn’t see he could smell. 

“Foul creature!” He hissed at me. “Moto Maji will steal your soul for this.” 

Moto Maji was going to have to get in line. That soul belonged to another and was placed in her fast-failing hands. My Frigga, the lady who waited for me- I had given it to her long ago, perhaps not expressed in words yet they said actions spoke louder. Was an unspoken commitment more potent then flowery words? 

Poets would think otherwise- but poets never had to scramble away from sightless snakes in undulating caves. They knew nothing and their foolish hands could not grip bone-hilt swords. Somewhere above me was the earth and sky again. I had to find it, I would claw through the walls if I had too. 

Claw through the walls. Yes. That was it. 

I was never going to be able to find the exit myself. Who needs exit when there was an angry battering ram the size of a river chasing after you. I threw away any care of direction, orientation. I just went up. 

Some of the holes were too small for me, and I would get stuck around the waist, struggling frantically while I clawed my way through. It was often one step forward and two steps back before any progress was made- but Moto Maji could not keep up with me as well as he might have liked. Even as I had to break open new parts of the ceiling, and grit my teeth as rough rock scraped my sides to shreds. It hurt, but I relished the feeling. I was violent and very much alive in these moments. 

The crow who would escape the jaws of death itself. I might not have wings but talons worked just as well. Every time my chains caught on the sharp protrusions of rock I took it as Frigga urging me ever onward, reminding me why I struggled. 

I kept going until there were no more holes. Another dead end. Moto Maji was layers below me, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he closed in. I hooked my hands against the top of the cave and pulled. A shower of dirt and shifting pebbles rained down on me Some of it got caught in the spiderwebs and despite scraping would not come off. The skin beneath was irritated, and gave me greater trouble then I would’ve thought. I did my best to dig away at the ceiling, before I felt the ground rumbling beneath me. 

Now was the time, and I would have to be quick and clever, or else perish in the jaws of Moto Maji. Seconds before he burst through the ground beneath me, I got into position, clutching tightly one of the stalactites that hung from the top of the cave. 

“You are finished little bird!” Moto Maji hissed. “These underground caves will be your tomb.” 

I laughed, knowing the sound would echo and confuse him. Moto Maji’s tounge flickered, tasting the air around him. 

“You will never trap me here!” I shouted. 

He sprung, as I knew he would. As I was about to become eclipsed by the blinded king, I left my perch. It was a perfect leap, I was even able to grasp one of my knives, still embedded in his eye and take it along with me. The ceiling came around him as a blurt spurt big enough to rival a fountain spicket poured from the sightless orb. 

His cries of pain deafened me. I rolled over his neck, and he withdrew to make another strike at me. All he caught was a few feathers form my cloak, while I took back my other knife, then planted my foot on the white crown-marking at the top of his head and disappeared through the hole in the roof. 

Topsoil. I could smell it now. The ground was above me, and the snake below. I backed up a good distance, for he came crashing through at me. Whatever was close at hand I threw at him- rocks and mud and broken bones. All of them fell against his scales until he was slinking towards me, his back creating a furrow in the earth. I sped around stalagmites, winding him in circle after circle until I was able to scramble over his back and out into the surface once more. My feet did not stop when they felt dry grass but carried on, kicking up clouds of dust. 

I could feel him beneath me, trying to follow, to track the vibrations of my feet over the distance- but sooner or later I would come to a place where he would lose me. It was something to have the ground beneath you shift and buckle as it was sped over. The fear and the thrill of it only propelled me swifter onwards. 

When I saw the river before me, rushing and pouring over rocks, I laughed. This was victory- this was joy. This was something that the serpent-king below me could not skirt. 

“Shame yourself Moto Maji!” I shouted, “For the great serpent was defeated by a flightless crow.” 

I doubted that my triumphant declaration could be heard below the ground, but I made it any way. It felt right. The speech I prepared for Alfred would fall on deaf ears too- the first chance I got I would cut off that man’s head. I was not taking any chances with him- his blonde curls in one hand and the death-giving blade in the other he would not have a chance at last words. 

The church boy had not had a chance at last words- he would receive no such considerations from me. The river water was cold and came up to my knees, swirling and pulling at me, trying to drag me under. I laughed at it too, such futile efforts. This was nothing more than a bird bath. I took handfuls of it, standing in the center of the torrents, forcing them to flow around me. My legs were planted firmly and the waters would just have to wait while I washed spider webs and cavern mud from myself. They could crash and break against me but I wasn’t shifting until I was good and ready. 

Fresh and cold it was a far cry from the gritty luke-warm well water I had been subsisting on. Nearly everything in the city had dried up, and only a few of the deepest fountains still ran. I hoped the castle had enough water to subsist on. If I must I would travel through the caverns again and bring Frigga water by the bucket full, from a place un-poisoned. She deserved that much. 

The sword had stopped glowing, and rested across my shoulders easily. It did not seem so heavy now. When I stepped out on the other side of the river, the world seemed brighter. Things rustled in the bushes and branches were laden with sweet-smelling fruit. The entire place was dripping with life. 

I carried on through the forest, and began to hear chanting and drum beats. Alive, yes something definitely living. There was singing too but not in a language that I found comprehensible. I heard laughter but when I looked around I was unable to find a person besides myself. Sometimes I though I caught the shine of bright eyes peering from trees, but once I focused my gaze on the twisting bark they went away. Something would sound off in the opposite direction and by the time I’d turned to face it, it was gone again. 

Circle after circle, I started to trip over my own feet. The music got faster and faster matching pace with my stumbling steps as I strained to keep up with their singing. Next I knew I was on the ground and they were peering down at me. Whatever they were they weren’t people, their eyes bore the liquid countenance one expects of deer. Gazes steeped in sap and syrup while their skin was skeleton leaves and bark, flower petals and twisting vines. 

The strange things looked down at me and laughed, then began to sing all the more sweetly. The air smelled like apples- freshly picked and I could taste the over-sweet summer wine that had been passed around on the day she asked me to dance. The grass was soft like ribbons, I had no desire to rise from it. I was laughing and it blended with their song. I started to sing words I’d never heard before while sunlight- yes actual light from sun long laid to rest dappled its honeyed glow over the gentle glade. Everything was warm and light, everything except the chains which burdened me so. Perhaps it was time to give in the song and set them aside. 

There was nothing but songs, nothing but sweetness. Like the sweet smell of oranges, long after they’ve been peeled and eaten it lingered, swallowing up everything around it. Their strange melodies and their laughter. Eyelashes that were made of twigs and stems and the proboscises of butterflies. They were so steeped in nature that there was nothing natural left about them- but I didn’t care. I wanted only to stay longer to hear more of their sweet singing. 

When the first one reached out to touch me her hands were warm. I took one in my own and pressed it to my cheek. She giggled and pulled me up, speaking words I could not understand. How long had it been since there was light and laughter in my life? How long since I had danced? 

Not since Frigga. 

God the sickness. Where was she? 

I began to scan the crowds of dancing creatures. They extended hands to me trying to pull me into the circle of dancers that swirled in the center of a sunlit glade. I passed them by or pushed them aside- the only hand I wanted to take was Frigga’s. 

They weren’t overly dissuaded, laying their fingers instead upon my cheek and shoulders. Their fingers were so warm- blankets you could not help but crawl beneath. We became a moving target, concentric circles that were in perpetual motion. If you looked at us from an eagle’s perch it would’ve been an easy task to shoot a bullseye and land an arrow in the heart of the musicians at the centermost point. Their music carried over the bobbing and weaving heads of the dancers. All of them were singing different songs and I could not keep up with their tones. 

Where was Frigga? She so loved to dance- she would not have settled for the outer ring. I pushed past the first line of dancers, ducking under their linked arms to stand between the strange creatures and those closer to the center. The smell, the sweetness started to fall away. Flies buzzed and mosquitos snapped and there was the slight undertone of something unwashed in the air. The dancers inside sang with less fervor- but they sang in unison fixing their ebon eyes upon me and baying their chorus as wolves at the moon. 

“Téir abhaile 'riú !Téir abhaile 'riú ! Téir abhaile 'riú Fwahe !Téir abhaile 'riú 's fan sa bhaile, Mar tá do mharghadh déanta.” 

That was my name. Somewhere in their strange cadence I heard my own name. How did they know my name? 

I grabbed the one nearest to me- and he seemed to crumble away in my hands. I was gripping the shoulders of an old man- older then I might’ve believed. He was older than the man I’d killed on the road. 

Yes the road- I was supposed to be someplace else. 

Like dust he came away, the layers of chainmail and tabard and tunic peeling and falling the same as the skin and bone beneath. His beard was a cesspool that dragged the ground as he danced, moving old knees and waving knobby old hands with youth he no long possessed. When I stopped him he looked relieved, but there was a twitch in the corner of his eye- something that pulled him back to the endless chorus. He sung it even as I stared him down. 

“Téir abhaile 'riú !Téir abhaile 'riú ! Téir abhaile 'riú Fwahe !Téir abhaile 'riú 's fan sa bhaile, Mar tá do mharghadh déanta.” 

“How do you know my name?!” I asked. 

I shook him, trying to rattle him up, shake him out of the chorus and the weird language so that he might speak sensibly. Instead I’d shaken him too hard and he just- ceased to be. Everything like ash piled at my feet and the dark-eyed dancers linked hands to fill the space between him. 

I watched their fingers come together. They were all wrong, wrinkles and age spots that moved like eager newlyweds, gripping tightly and swinging wildly back and forth. The man had crumbled but the song only got louder as I watched their tapping feet waiting for an opening. Every one of them was skinny, underfed despite the abundance of food to be had just beyond the previous ring of dancers. I finally found a space large enough for me to slip through and ducked beneath the wobbling arms. Now the song was defining. I was being screamed at. 

“Téir abhaile 'riú !” 

I turned back to them and screamed, “I don’t understand!” 

“Téir abhaile 'riú !” 

“What do you mean?” 

Their faces did not change. That made me angrier then anything, that my spit could be landing on their swirling faces and do nothing but send more skin up to the sky like flickering embers. 

“Téir abhaile 'riú Fwahe !” 

I could stand it no more and began to duck under arm after arm, tearing my way through the human barriers. More than once my nail would snag a skirt, or my foot collide with an ankle. It was always enough to send one of them crumbling. There were mountains of scattered people behind me by the time I reached the center. 

A black thing bent over a white cello, sawing away with bleeding fingers, turning the strings a sparkling scarlett. His horns were knotted with dead flowers and his lion-like tail whipped back and forth in time to the beat. I’d knocked down so many of the dancers that now it seemed he was the only one singing- the only one solid. 

“Téir abhaile 'riú 's fan sa bhaile, Mar tá do mharghadh déanta.” He shouted. 

I was sure that my fingers would not turn this one to dust. I placed one to either side of its face and forced the blackened creature to look into my eyes. They were gold like my own, though surely beneath my mask the realization was mine alone. 

He spat the words ever louder, rising and pulling away from my hands. He let the cello fall away, but kept his grip on the bloody bow. 

“Téir abhaile 'riú !Téir abhaile 'riú ! Téir abhaile 'riú Fwahe !Téir abhaile 'riú 's fan sa bhaile, Mar tá do mharghadh déanta.” 

I didn’t have the chance to yell at him before his cello hit the ground. The second the white instrument hit the grass the color drained away from the summer. All the grass became yellow and curled into itself, dead. The people briefly held their pose, but in a flash were skeletons and their bones fell away in piles just as the ash. The fruit and roasts piled on gleaming trays turned black and rotten, crawling with maggots and reeking oversweet and savory into the polluted air. Worst of all were the roots of the trees which ringed the glade, they sprouted from the ground as snakes weaving around and around, bobbing in and out of one another until their charcoal bark wove the demon and I into a darkened cage. 

They picked things up on their way, all of them racing to form the top most bars of the cage. Thing tendrils snagged skulls and dusty clothing, pulling tight around them and taking the debris up into the woven sky. Hanged men began to dangle from the sky. Their lifeless jaws opened and shouted at me, screamed at me. 

“Téir abhaile 'riú !Téir abhaile 'riú ! Téir abhaile 'riú Fwahe !Téir abhaile 'riú 's fan sa bhaile, Mar tá do mharghadh déanta.” 

I wanted to cover my ears. 

There was opening only at the top, through which the sun shone. It had been pleasant before but now it was white-hot and burned like fire. There was too much of it, too concentrated and trying to look about the split-fingered cellist in the bright sunshine hurt my eyes. Black bats wings- leathery and shriveled sprouted from his back and he advanced towards me, extending the bow. 

I dropped into a better stance, grasping for the sword at my back. The bone hilt felt cold in my hand- not freezing but a pleasant cold like shadows in summer. I pried it away and lunged at the creature. 

“Téir abhaile 'riú Fwahe !” He shouted, deflecting the full brunt of the sword with a deft flick of the bow. 

I should’ve been able to cut through it, constructed of nothing but twine and wood- the job ought to have been an easy one. It proved anything but, I simply could not land a strike on the beast. He did not attack but every advance I made was deftly flicked away. With every strike the volume of the screeching skulls only increased driving me further into frenzy. 

“Téir abhaile 'riú !Téir abhaile 'riú ! Téir abhaile 'riú Fwahe !Téir abhaile 'riú 's fan sa bhaile, Mar tá do mharghadh déanta.” 

Why couldn’t they learn to close their lifeless mouths? 

“Téir abhaile 'riú !Téir abhaile 'riú ! Téir abhaile 'riú Fwahe !Téir abhaile 'riú 's fan sa bhaile, Mar tá do mharghadh déanta.” 

The words dripped from the creatures mouth, like liquid like blood. His brows furrowed and he continued to speak while parrying each and every one of my strikes. I came from the left, came from the right. At one point I even fainted and came up to throw a knife at him, but he was able to grasp the handle mid-air. He threw it to the ground and kicked it away. When I went to pick it up he did not press advantage but let the blade of mercy once more rest in its place at my hip. I didn’t understand. “

Why are you fighting me?” I shouted. 

It struck me that he wasn’t. Gently and fraught with caution I lowered my sword. I lowered it all the way to the crusty grass. He didn’t make the slightest motion to set aside his bow, but also did not step towards me. The only motion was that of the leathery wings which seemed unable to stay still, constantly twitching and flickering. 

He wanted to fly. 

“Go!” I shouted at him. “Go if that’s what you want! I’m not going to stop you.” 

I was met with the song again. “Téir abhaile 'riú !Téir abhaile 'riú ! Téir abhaile 'riú Fwahe !Téir abhaile 'riú 's fan sa bhaile, Mar tá do mharghadh déanta.” 

“I don’t know what you mean!” I shouted back. 

The demon loosed a bellowing roar and threw his arms upward in a sweeping arc. I had been so bent on battle that I didn’t notice the shadow crossing over the sun. It was that of a great hand, with long fingers. They were barely more than bone, and thin the way piano players wish for. 

Something around them was sparkling. 

I squinted straining to see closer, and at last there it was. The twitch in his wings, the grip of the bow in his fingers, threaded through the eye sockets and nostrils of the hundreds of skulls that surrounded me were the tiniest golden threads. The fingers over the sun pulled and so too did the demon’s wings lift, his fingers pull across the bowstring and bleed. 

“Téir abhaile 'riú !Téir abhaile 'riú ! Téir abhaile 'riú Fwahe !Téir abhaile 'riú 's fan sa bhaile, Mar tá do mharghadh déanta.” He sang. 

“Is that some kind of warning?” 

At last a dip of the head, a nod. He came up from the nod and brought his head around in a circle like he was stretching the muscles of his neck to work out some long-lasting muscle soreness. His singing stopped but the motions continued. I watched him with head cocked to the side and eyebrows raised behind the bone mask. It was strange, but the right kind of strange to put me at ease. I returned the sword to its place on my back and my hands hovered over the knives no more. 

“What is it you want from me?” I asked. 

He kept making circles with his head. I tried to mirror him and found my face was wrenched forward. I could not turn it as I wanted too. 

My hands flew to my neck, and found thin thread, as a noose encircling me. My feet made quick circles and I felt tightening around my ankles, hitches in the feathers of my cape where they had been bound in clumps. The hand came down from the sun, the color of dust, reaching through the top of the cage to scoop me up. 

I tried to move but I was held in place, limp but still standing somehow, like a puppet. 

“Téir abhaile 'riú !Téir abhaile 'riú ! Téir abhaile 'riú Fwahe !Téir abhaile 'riú 's fan sa bhaile, Mar tá do mharghadh déanta.” 

A hole began to open in the ground, something which crumbled away from the spaces where tree roots used to be. All was black earth, and beneath it bubbling churning gold. Gold as lava which bubbled and spat and spewed, a tumultuous living thing. I was being dragged towards it. 

Whatever held me would do so no longer. I curled downwards, taking the string between my teeth and biting it to nothing. The tendril broke but almost instantly began to try and mend itself once more, this time higher around my thigh. I bore the chains of others- stringed promises had no place on my body. 

There were the knives and they were better then teeth. I cut away my own strings while the skulls and the cellist bellowed. When the last of the threads was cut, the tree roots shivered. I wasn’t done. I kept cutting, coming up to the cellist who bent his back and inclined the twitching leathey wings to me. I could hardly see the shine of the thread as I slashed. 

His last string did not act as mine, for instead of freeing him it cut away the illusion. His skin turned to feedsack, his horns melted to twigs and his body which once was flesh and blood spilled out of his mouth in clumps of sand- nothing but a rag doll. I began to climb the spiked roots of trees, slashing my skin on the thorns that had grown but slicing into the bark and pulsing meat beneath. The trees oozed black blood and were muscle and tendon beneath the bark, enough to turn a stomach, but with a knife in each hand I was sure of my grip. It was the only way to be sure. The long fingers, working awkwardly in the confines of the cage of its own construction tried to close over me, but I was too swift- flightless perhaps but not at all shackled. 

Drenched in tree sap, or blackened blood- I could no longer discern which I finally made it to the top. I was taking no chances. I squinted until I saw the spool of golden thread, for it was not the sun at all, but the side of an enormous spool, that which seamstresses use. I took the thread in my hand, pulling arm over arm like a sailor hauling in the sails until I’d amassed more then I needed. 

I was going to seal away that song forever, hopping from thorn to exposed thorn I wove a net of golden thread over the top of the cage. My captor was sealed forever inside but I kept winding. I ran from one side of the circle to the other, hopping back and forth almost dancing in time with the song I sought to cover up. “Téir abhaile 'riú !Téir abhaile 'riú ! Téir abhaile 'riú Fwahe !Téir abhaile 'riú 's fan sa bhaile, Mar tá do mharghadh déanta.” 

And then the sun ran out of string. I pulled with all I had left, closing my eyes and straining against the forces that opposed me. The strings sealed tight. When my eyes opened I was laying in the meadow. I could hear the sound of rushing water. 

I rose immediately brushing away the dirt and scraps of grass. I leapt out of the ring of mushrooms- how had I not seen them before- and began to hurry down the path away from the stream. I wanted to put leagues behind me and that fairy circle. Who was to say how much time I had lost transfixed in the meadow. I could only pray I hadn’t missed the Tournament of the Black Rabbit.


	5. I Never Get Off the Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kohso undergoes his worst night yet. Definitely the worst one yet.

He left me tied to the trees. The position in no way impeded him from nightly atonement. He had his release and I cleaned his fingers for him while the ropes cut into my wrists. He whispered un-truths in my ears, things that must have been true but I couldn’t accept. It was like every other night since meeting him. 

“She’s not going to need you once you pull us through.” His Lordship said, “Where will you go- who will you be without your masters?” 

I was grateful to have his fingers in my mouth, they excused me from response. The truth that sank my stomach was the unknown potential for depravity that I held within myself. Without Her Ladyship to follow, without His Lordship to punish me, surely I would fall to old routines. I didn’t want them to leave. I might have hated His Lordship, but I needed him. 

He removed his fingers and wiped them off on the cloth that had fallen around my ankles. I could not hold back a cough nor he a displeased glare that culminated in a slap across the face. 

“Hmm?” He prodded. 

His Lordship still wanted an answer. 

I had to speak his least favorite sentence. “I don’t know, your Lordship.” 

“Useless.” He proclaimed, bringing his boot between my legs and a devastating kick then going off to find a place to sleep in the swamp. 

I worked to cry quietly. He’d left me bound, but I found the means to sleep anyway. I couldn’t cut the ropes nor do a thing to lessen the tension, but exhaustion was a powerful force that pulled me under to sweet slumber. It was a fitful thing. I spent the night looking through the eyes of the dead while two demons fought each other. I was screaming a song but when I woke I could not remember the words. 

The usual morning kick in the side and everything crumbled to hazy half-memories. 

“So sorry I forgot to cut you down last night, crow-boy.” His Lordship said. 

“It’s nothing, your Lordship.” I said, “I feel fine.” 

He smiled and cut the ropes away, taking my chain and leading me back to where Her Ladyship stood and considered the swamp before her. 

“Do you think it’s safe to cross, your Ladyship?” I asked. 

In answer she pried a stone from the bank and gently flung it into the bog. The stone held on the surface of the water for a few seconds, before slowly sinking into the thick waters, a combination of water and mud that sucked the stone down without any trouble. 

“It is normal for stones to sink.” She said, “But I fear in my condition I would not make it. Can your wings yet bare you aloft?” 

“I do not know, your Ladyship.” I said, “I have not tried to fly with them.” 

“Make the attempt.” She commanded. 

I was no bird and all of my attempts to flap wings were laughable. One fully grown and the other nothing but a shriveled pile of feathers- the results were less then ideal. I fell on my face often, irritating the many bruises I’d sustained by His Lordship’s hands. 

“I am sorry your Ladyship.” I said at last. 

“I suppose it can’t be helped.” Her Ladyship sighed. 

“Mustn’t blame him for his inadequacies. He is only a common sinner.” His Lordship said, putting an arm around her shoulders. It should’ve just been a brother comforting his sister, but I saw tension in those fingers. He was trying to hold back from gripping tighter- his concern was false and it was merely an excuse for his skin to meet hers. 

It did no good to dwell on- neither my attempts to protect nor his to corrupt were going to get us across this swamp. 

“You did at one point, carry the favor of the sea goddesses.” Her Ladyship said, brushing away His Lordship’s hand with the one of hers that remained. 

“Swamps and seas are different.” Her brother protested. 

“I..I do not think any goddess would favor me now.” I said. 

“Pray to her. Has not Kane taught you how?” 

“He…he hasn’t, your Ladyship. I have not advanced that far. I had forgotten so much of much Sainted Annalise and her many holy knights- of the foul Executioners that sought to slay her. His Lordship told me to forget gods like Kos and Inle, instead to focus on those of Old Cainhurst.” I explained. 

“You cloud his mind.” She sighed, once more glaring at her brother. 

“I merely wanted him to know our history.” He replied, “Surely Queen Annalise belongs among the great ones- she is immortal.” 

Her Ladyship sighed, and took my chin in her hand. “Can you remember any of your prayers, Kohso?” 

I stared into her eyes, fearful that her fingers might snap. With a nervous swallow I tried to think back to anything, anywhere. A ship came back to me, somewhere full of laughter and strange women. I thought that Her Ladyship was there, but strange golden light obscured her face and I could not, in my memories, turn my head to see past it. There was still the music of waves slurping against the side of the ship, the croaking of seagulls overhead. All of it brought her back to me, so that when I blinked and looked to the true world once more I saw the face of the sea-goddess. 

It was somehow lain over Her Ladyship’s. It was one of those tricks that occur to tired eyes, too separate visions suddenly merging to one in a haze of dancing silver sparks. My jaw wanted to fall open in astonishment, but I kept it closed for fear of delicate fingers. She was beautiful, so beautiful. The ephemeral sea seemed to hover in the air, full of salt and swaying seagrasses. Tears fell shameless from my eyes as I looked into her face- a face so long forgotten. 

“Call to her.” 

Her Ladyship’s voice was a dim whisper, but the command still compelled. How could I even speak to her, someone so set above me? Looking as I did, so steeped in worldly desires? To think to offer words and beg favors from one so perfect was absurdity in its very different. 

I could not let Her Ladyship down though, thus I began to beseech the mother of the sea for a blessing. 

“Mother Kos I-“ 

“Do not abase yourself, my favored son.” She said cutting me off. 

I was dumb-founded and this time my jaw really did drop. Favored son, impossible. She must have me confused with one of her other devotees. I did not think it appropriate to correct a goddess, especially when Her Ladyship had put such overwhelming faith in my prayers. I just looked up at her, watching the movement of her lips and the light in her kind eyes as she spoke. They were violet- a color I’d never once seen in eyes before, and seemed only fitting that it should belong to gods alone. 

“I need your help.” I said. 

“Kohso of Odeon Chapel, you need only ever ask and you will find me to aid you in all things.” She said. 

There it was. I was not Kohso of Odeon Chapel but Kohso of Cainhurst. She had mistaken me for another, purer soul. The meaning of the name, devoted to Kos- there must be hundreds if not thousands with it. With my broken face and and repulsive wings it was no wonder she had mistaken me for a different man. 

“My lady needs to cross the swamp.” I said, “But she is weak and will fall to nothing if she takes so much as a step. Please Mother Kos-“ 

“Beg not of me.” She said, “It would be better if she did fall beneath the water. Is a crossing truly what you wish?” 

“More than anything, Mother Kos.” I said. 

“You do not know what you ask, Kohso of Odeon Chapel, nor what waits for your beyond the swamp. It would be best if I-“ 

“Please!” I begged. 

The nerve of me to interrupt a god, but Her Ladyship needed this. She must cross the swamp. She was going to cure me and, perhaps if I could win her favor during our travels- if I could split the mirror and return to the world of the living with my masters in tow then she might let me stay at her side. She might let me continue to serve and then I could answer His Lordship’s questions. 

Yes, truly I would be nothing without the guidance of my lord and my lady, but I would never need to be. I would remain in their service all my days and follow their instructions without question. I would submit myself nightly to His Lordship so that he might have his desires forever satisfied and need never lay his hands on his sister. Once I was cured I would go to churches for hours and pray month after unending month for favors on the house of Hirsch. I would light candles and take up fasts so that all the gods- known to me and still obscured might be pleased with all my efforts. 

Yes, your Lordship. I would be useless without my masters. I would just have to never be without them. 

“Please, she is all I have. She will cure me.” 

“But you aren’t-“ 

“Please.” I begged, for I did not know what else to do. 

“Do not abase yourself my favored son. Passage is granted.” 

I was about to thank her when a sudden snapping noise sent the godess away. Kane’s fingers clicked together over and over. I blinked in time with them. 

“You stopped breathing.” Her Ladyship said, “I had begun to fear your failure.” 

“N-never, your Ladyship.” I said. 

“Then you spoke with the godess?” 

I nodded. 

“Impossible.” His Lordship spat. He waved his hand towards the swamp, “I see nothing to indicate-“ 

Mother Kos stopped him mid-sentence . The murky water began to bubble and foam. Unseen beneath such dark depths seagrass wove together, stones were pried from their resting places, all of it rising to the surface and forming a beautiful little boat. There were seats of smooth river rock, and the body was all deftly sewn seaweed. A gift from the mother of the seas herself, I was in awe. The craft was very similar to those I had seen in drawings of the drowned city, to the south. The people who lived there used them as many used carriages, the rest of their roads slim and unsuitable for navigation with horses. Now it would get us across the swamp. 

“You were saying, Kane?” Her Ladyship asked. 

“Have the crow-boy test it.” He replied, “For it might be some kind of trick.” 

She nodded and I stepped forward. It really was a beautiful boat, upon closer inspection there were shells carved into the stone seats and a seahorse acting as tiny figurehead. There even seemed to be a bluish glow about the little craft and I felt safe inside of it. 

“Seems steady!” I called back. 

His Lordship had never looked more upset. He trailed after Her Ladyship, looking like nothing so much as a wet parcel, sagging and slouched. Her Ladyship stepped daintily into the boat. I wanted to offer my hand and assist her but I feared any kind of damage. The climb up the mountainside had no doubt stressed her beyond her limits. She was losing so many layers. 

He loomed behind her, taking up the rearmost seat in the boat. I grabbed the oars and began to row across the swamp. It was not a difficult task for I believe Kos had blessed the boat to some degree. It floated easily across the surface of the water and was not pulled down. It was a little tricky to manage the oars, which were often grabbed by the mud and had to be wrenched free again, but by and by I got the hang of it. 

I was grateful to be able to sit down for so long too. It wasn’t particularly pleasant after my nightly atonements, but walking was much worse. 

“We are nearly to the castle.” Her Ladyship said, “I am falling further and further to decay, so when we arrive you mustn’t tarry Kohso- not even for a moment. Hesitation might cost me my life, and your cure.” 

“I did not let you down on the cliff. I will not let you down at the castle.” I said, “But..I do have something I want to ask of you, your Ladyship.” 

“How dare you.” His Lordship growled, “Presume to ask favors of when-“ 

“It’s fine Kane.” She said, “Let him speak.” 

I waited a minute, for his look of derision to subside. Eventually it settled into condescending scorn and I found it easier to speak over that then hate directly. 

“If I’m cured,” I began, “You will dismiss me from your service. I..I know it is not my place to ask for favors, your Ladyship but I do not wish to be dismissed. I don’t trust myself to the temptations of the living word and would…well. I would like to remain uncured so that I might forever serve the noble house of Hirsch, your ladyship.” 

“Absolutely not.” His Lordship barked. 

She had not said anything. She didn’t dismiss His Lordship’s answer, nor offer her own. Was I to take his word as law, as a decision? I did not know, and continued to row across the swamp hoping that I might find out. We reached the bank on the other side and she was still wordless. This time when I stepped out I did offer my hand, but she did not take it. She made a point not to take it. 

“Carry its chain Kane.” She said. “And make sure it walks behind us. I want to hear it screaming tonight- it has shunned my gift and should suffer.” 

It. The word cut into me. 

“Please your Ladyship!” I cried 

“Not a word!” His Lordship snarled at me. 

I ignored him, “Please if I’m cured then he’ll-“ 

The chain wound tight around my throat, choking me. It had taken so long to work up the nerve to warn Her Ladyship of her brother’s intentions- and now he was taking the breath right out of me to keep them secret. 

“Thank you, brother.” Her Ladyship said, “I can endure It’s pathetic speech no longer. Let us away.” 

We didn’t continue walking for very long. Her Ladyship’s legs had started to stiffen and made popping, scraping protests whenever she took a step. All three of us were greatly concerned, but she did not slow until the smell of decay from the swamp was behind us. The castle which housed the famed mirror was surrounded by a little farming village. It may have once been a bustling profitable place but now it was nothing but ragged fields and crumbling houses. 

Her Ladyship sat on the stoop of one of them, and carefully stretched her legs, swinging them gently back and forth. 

“Alois can I-“ 

“No.” She said, “You have another job. I will deal with myself, I want you to take It across the road to the other house. If I can’t hear It screaming from over here you’re not working hard enough.” 

“But your legs.” His Lordship protested. 

“They still work fine.” She replied, “We’ve not far to go. It is agony for me, let it be agony for that disgrace as well.” 

“With pleasure, sweet sister.” His Lordship smiled. 

He yanked me away, collar almost snapping me neck as His Lordship led me across the street. I didn’t have time to turn and wish Her Ladyship a pleasant sleep. He wound the chain around his arm so many times that there was hardly a link left to separate me from him. So tight and so heavy it was hard to breathe. I deserved to strain my lungs to gasp and struggle for every breath. What had I been thinking? 

The house Her Ladyship had chosen was a little less run down then the one I was brought into. This one had thorns and ivy growing all over it. I thought it might have been a black smith’s workshop. His Lordship shoved me through the doorway. I stumbled and hit the ground hard, skinning my knees on the rotting floorboard. 

“Stay.” He barked, like I was a dog. 

I did, bearing the sting of scraped skin while he stepped back outside. Through the sliver of sunset that came in through the door I watched him move in black shadows. He cut branches riddled with thorns down from their place above the door. He brought in a bundle and stood over me. 

“Clothes off.” His Lordship commanded, “And give me that cord.” 

I started to move, reaching down to tug at the scrap of rope that held my tattered robes up. His Lordship’s boot jolted up, landing me a hard kick in the stomach. The pain shook all through me, the cord slipped and already tears begged to drop from my eyes. 

“What do you say after your master has given you a command?” He asked. 

“Yes, your Lordship.” I said. 

“And?” He asked. 

“Sorry, your Lordship.” 

He smiled “Good boy. Let’s try again. Clothes off.” 

“Yes, your Lordship.” I said. 

I fumbled with the knots just as much, but His Lordship didn’t stop me this time. I slid the last of my robes off, and resisted the urge to place my hands between my legs. If he didn’t want for clothing he wouldn’t want his view obscured in other ways. I handed him the rope and he took his time, binding all of the thorn branches together. They resembled the end of a broom when he’d finished with them. 

“Now my sister said she wanted to hear you screaming.” His Lordship said, “I’ve never denied my sweet sister a single thing that she wanted so you better make yourself heard, Crow-boy.” 

“Yes, your Lordship.” I whimpered. 

“Louder.” He commanded. 

Before I could amend myself, the bundle of thorns came down across my back, catching skin and feathers on its way and ripping them open. I screamed, oh gods did I scream. He’d put hardly any of his strength into his strike, but the thorns lent power of their own. My arms were shaking, already unable to support my weight. 

“Ungrateful.” He remarked. “Will you not thank me for giving you the chance to satisfy your master’s wishes?” 

Again before I had the chance to answer the thorns came down, striking opposite and cutting across those previous, leaving the tears in a rough “x” shape. I screamed so loud the rafters shook. My arms fell away and my forehead leaned on the rotting floor. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks. 

“Please.” I begged, “Please no more. Please it hurts.” 

His boot came down over the scar and I screamed again. 

“Thank me.” He commanded. 

My response was immediate, obedient and instant. I’d do anything to keep another strike from coming. “Thank you, your lordship.” 

He laughed. “Stand up.” 

I had to struggle out from under his boot and every time my shoulders shifted, my back turned everything burned. Just that let out more screams. 

“Yes, your Lordship.” I said. 

“Go lean against the wall. Put your hands over your neck.” He instructed. 

“Yes, your Lordship.” I said. 

I hurried to do as he directed. It stung to keep my arms above my head, twisting my shoulders and keeping the weight of the wings aloft. His Lordship didn’t waste a second before bringing the thorns down across the back of my legs. They collapsed instantly, pain so sharp and sudden I couldn’t support myself. I remembered to thank him somewhere on the way down, somewhere between screams and tears. He kicked me back up again, and begrudgingly found a pair of handcuffs to secure me, forcing me to raise my wrists high above my head and stand on my toes. The wings felt like they were going to snap right off. 

“You’re pathetic.” He said, “Can’t you even stand and take your punishment properly.” 

“Sorry, your Lordship.” I said. 

“You know your failures only make it worse for you. I’m trying to teach you, Crow-boy. You need to learn to worship your gods with grace and humility, to take your beatings without protest.” 

“Thank you, your Lordship.” I whimpered. 

The thorns came down across my back. 

“Louder.” He commanded. 

I apologized and amended myself and the lashing continued. Everything had begun to bleed. His Lordship had to wipe me down with the molding table cloth and old stable blankets so that he could find new spots to strike. The rough fabric made everything sting all over again. My face and chest were streaked with tears, mingling with the blood and diluting it to a pinkish color instead of deep crimson. 

“I hope she can hear you.” His Lordship said as he ran sharp fingernails over the scars he’d made. When he took them away he pressed my blood to is lips and tasted it. His pupils dilated and he came back for me, digging his nails into my wounds and taking mouthful after mouthful of my blood. 

“Please.” I begged, “Please stop. Please, your Lordship. It hurts so much, I can’t stand it.” 

That only brought back the thorns. He let them bite the soles of my feet and I screamed. 

“You’re only able to stand because I was kind enough to secure you.” His Lordship corrected. “Your pain pleases your masters. Your blood is unusual and sweet, it satisfies cravings from another world. You should be glad to offer it, grateful for the lessons- as I’ve told you. Where are my thanks, Crow-boy. Where is your gratitude?” 

“Please.” I sobbed. 

“You must want more.” He laughed. 

He wasn’t done when the sun started to rise. My back, chest and legs were thoroughly flayed before His Lordship’s desires manifested themselves. He took me down, but lacked the patience to find a bed. He decided that bending me over the kitchen table would do. The edge of it cut into my stomach, and he carried on until the table shuddered and broke. After that he took me over a chair. 

His Lordship was trying to give me instructions but I couldn’t hear them over my own screams. He bit my shoulder and lapped up the blood running down my back, seeming to gain fresh energy from that. He let out his own screams several times, allowing himself all the pleasure in the world. I was stained with it, and when that wasn’t enough he forced my silence and continued to fill the air with his own gasping cries. 

“You bit me last time.” His Lordship said, “Last time I forced your mouth to do something useful.” 

“Sorry, your Lordship.” I said. 

“It’s common, even amongst the more experienced whores. Alois and I used to take our bleeder’s teeth out, but fortune has smiled upon you tonight, Crow-boy. Look at all the lovely little tools the homeowner left us.” 

He left me alone, just for a moment. The brief pause made the following activity all the harder to endure, something about loss of momentum brought fresh agony. His Lordship had found something truly terrible. It looked a little like the tool women used to curl their eyelashes, only much larger, and he fixed it between my teeth forcing my mouth open so wide I could feel them tearing at the corners. 

He took away any ability to fight on my part, forcing me to my knees and chaining my arms behind my back. He forced his own pleasure down my throat time and time again as the sun shone brighter through the windows. 

She walked in on us, on me with my mouth forced open and His Lordship’s hands in my hair. I wanted to apologize, but was complete unable. She sat herself down on one of the crumbling chairs and surveyed the room. There were bloodstains all over the floor, and the bundle of thorns laid nearby, crusted with the same blood. 

“Finish quickly.” She said of His Lordship, “Then let’s be on our way.” 

“By your command.” He said with a smile. He pressed my head down. I couldn’t breathe, could hardly choke. He let out one last rapturous cry, eyes fixed on Her Ladyship instead of closed, as was his usual preference. I hated that I knew things like that now. He removed himself from my mouth and removed the metal bracing, but before I could get in a breath he bade me swallow, stroking my throat when I refused. 

“How kind of you to feed It.” Her Ladyship said, “It was certainly loud enough last night, such sweet music for you to produce. What lovely lullabies.” 

His Lordship laughed and patted me on the head, while I bent double, trying not to be sick in front of them. 

“I told you I would not disappoint.” His Lordship reminded. 

He yanked the cuffs from my hand and commanded me to unbind the thorns and cover up once more. He didn’t want me embarrassing his sister, nor either did I wish that. I found it hard to believe the last of my robes would do anything to preserve modesty after what Her Ladyship had just seen. 

I don’t think any of us had slept, but even with her stiffened legs she walked faster then I. His Lordship held the chain and routinely tried to trip me up with it, amused when he could snag one of my ankles and topple my shaking body. 

The only mercy of the day was the close proximity of the castle. If It had been another mile I wouldn’t have lasted. Shamefully and much to the laughter of my lords I had to crawl along some parts of the path, my own legs not strong enough. The wings, were killing me. They were so heavy, and I could hardly bear them another second. “You know you’re only supposed to stay on your knees when I’m using you.” His Lordship said when we stopped for a rest. We were only a few feet from the portcullis, but Her Ladyship needed a moment. 

“Y-yes, your Lordship.” I whimpered. 

He laughed again before turning to converse with his sister. I couldn’t take another second of their mockery, and instead turned my attention to the castle. It was a crumbling thing, and while at first I thought it had rested on top of the same ground as the village upon closer inspection that was merely an illusion. Fog had obscured my view, and now I could see that the sharp rectangular towers and black stone walls lay beyond. The ground broke into cliffs, towering above a gray-green ocean, and the castle was built across them, with swaying bridges connecting each to the others. Violent waves crashed into the supports. With each I was sure the structure would shiver and collapse, but it held firm. 

Unlike the village and the cities and the rest of this nightmare, it hadn’t been worn away. It seemed the only place strong enough to house a mirror without fear of breaking it. Watching it from afar I had faith in the structure, but when Her Ladyship declared it time to make our way across the first bridge I lost all my trust. The wooden boards beneath my feet were slick with salt water spray. It stung my wounds and stumbled my steps. 

I had to clutch the ropes and practically pull myself across. His Lordship was the only one with any real strength left, and was never more than a step behind his sister. She needed his support often, but made it across relying mostly on her own strength. At last we had made it. We were through the door, inside the castle. Now it was just down to the mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think please :) Thank you for reading


	6. Its my Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fwahe, meet Leslie. Leslie, Fwahe.  
> Everyone come meet my new son.

At least I could see Castle Frith. It towered on the far hilltop, flags furling and unfurling as the wind took them. If it had only been like in the stories and filled me with a sudden burst of hope, or energy then I might’ve smiled- but all I saw was a mountain in the distance that would make for an arduous climb. To see the peak was one thing, to reach it another. 

The country around the kingdom had become spoiled, so much that I doubted the tournament was yet held, but I had to carry on. I looked down at my path, then promptly tried to find a route to the alternative. Something had overtaken the trees, draping them in some red fungus or vines, from this distance it was hard to be sure of the specifics. Whatever it was fell over the trees and fields like gigantic fish nets, layers upon layers of them. 

It was rare to know the exact nature of one’s trial before approaching it, but now I could see spread before me all that I would have to pass through. Already my arm seemed to ache, putting forth tired protests in advance. There was minimal desire to chop through the strange vegetation, especially after all that I had just overcome, but without wings I could not fly over it. Grounded crows must traverse the ground, and I could afford no more delays. 

There was no telling how long I’d been kept amongst the singing skulls. I found a deer run down the cliff, nary a deer to speak of, but the narrow path they wove served me well. I was weary of strange encounters and eager to sever Alfred’s soul. I was going through a lot of trouble for this, I almost wanted to demand a good fight out of him, to ensure it had been worth my while. 

I had seen him when the tables were turned, the roles reversed and he chose the easy kill every time. Kohso trusted him, most of the world had heralded Alfred a great hero. Many still did. They didn’t know, and I would have to show them before I killed him. I would not go down as a great villain simply because I failed to expose the man in life. Before I was finished with him he’d admit to everyone that he murdered that boy in cold blood. I would make him admit to anything I liked, at that point the truth would be irrelevant. I could say that he only took on apprentices because of sick appetites for younger boys, and the crowds would believe me. 

I would make them believe me, but first I had to reach them. I pressed on harder down the trail, taking slaps to the face from wispy branches in my haste to reach the castle. What was another scar when measured against those that permanently marred my flesh. Evil men had put them there, found blades to split my skin and marked me according to their own desires and language of symbols. Just as a word could mean two things in different tongues, I had learned the scars meant different things to other people. 

I had also learned that I was just as valid in my own translation of the markings as the ones who had given me the scars in the first place. Frigga had taught me all of this, as we lay together in the moonlight. What a poor place for romance, that is what I had thought of the mausoleum, but Frigga had changed it all. An outpost attic could become as fine as any four poster when she was its occupant. I worried the holes in the roof would be drafty, that she would shiver and catch cold, but she had told me she loved to look at the stars before she slept. She couldn’t see them from her own lodging, and so my room became an astral gallery too her and she told me the stories of the stars. 

They were always making up stories about things, but she knew them all. She could tell me the names of the stars and which ones made pictures. I never really understood the pictures but I loved to hear the hum of her voice when she leaned against my chest. It almost didn’t matter what she spoke of. She would take my hand in her own and trace the lines between the star-pictures with it, hoping that I might learn. 

She traced my scars too, running her fingers carefully over the line of loops. It didn’t hurt, they had stopped hurting a long long time ago. She thought they were beautiful, those scars and the ones that scorched across my stomach, over my hips. Our first time she had been worried that I’d be hurt, not repulsed at all by the sight of them- just concerned for my wellbeing. Oh how close I had pulled her that night, until the smell of night air and human preservatives was completely eclipsed by her perfumed curls. 

The scent that choked the air now was anything but perfume. I had thought, wrongly that the covering over the plants and fields had been something of natural occurrence, the roots of some poisonous overbearing weed, but this was not so. All was draped in string after string of intestines and gnarled flesh. The things inside had been taken out and woven together into hideous obstacle. Like strands of spiderwebs, all of the bloody ropes were matted together, woven in pattern layered over pattern, so that it was impossible to pass beneath them without making contact. 

I stood before it and tried to take stock of the situation as I prepared myself to enter. This was a time for church boys to take a knee and pray. That’s what he would’ve done, prayed and then been sick. More likely the other way round. Kohso did not have the strongest of stomachs, I remember when he was taking boating he had come back looking greener then fresh sprouted grass. I’d teased him to no end. I should’ve been a little nicer. 

I was glad he didn’t have to see this. 

Upon closer inspection it seemed to be crafted- if that were the word for it. There were strings of sinew and fat woven into intricate patterns, as lace on a collar. They were strung between larger braided ropes of stomachs. Heads hung like pearls, or entire bodies were splayed like beads, accenting certain parts of the depraved creation. Someone had spent a lot of time making this. 

Someone had spent a lot of time, and they were going to end up cut to ribbons along with their craft project. I steeled myself the best I could and took a stab at the spider’s web. Nothing happened. 

Perhaps it had been a weaker swing then I’d anticipated. I could’ve been holding back due to the nature of the task. No matter. I adjusted my grip and swung again. The intestinal cords vibrated, and my sword bounced against them, useless. 

I inspected the edge and cut my fingers in the process. The blade was sharp enough to slice my skin it should’ve been able to cut through the corpses with no problem, but after repeated efforts I found it was no use. I tried to call upon the cosmic light, bring forth the sword’s true power, but it lay dormant. I fed the blade my blood and all I got was a red sword. No glow. No voices. No Kohso. No nothing. 

Could a poisoned world infect a blade too? I had heard of people coating the tips of their weapons in various solutions, to kill instantly, or take a man down if they so much as scratched him. I was not fond of these shaman’s blades, but I’d come across them many times. They were common, they were known. 

But a blade taking ill? This I had never heard of. This could not be, if the sword did not strike true how was I to enter the tournament, to take back what was owed? 

One problem at a time, Crow. 

I was making promises to myself now. I put my sickened sword across my back and steeled myself for what was to come. I looked over the web for a big enough stich that would allow me to pass beneath it. I wanted to minimize my contact with the viscera. Strange now, to find myself squeamish. I’d always been the one who did the killing, who’d had to to survive. I’d seen more dead men then I cared to count, and been responsible for more deaths then most. I had a record, surely, but at least I’d never altered the bodies like this. 

What had done this? 

If this was the web then where was the spider? 

I did not care to meet a creature that made things like this, but one regrettably had to meet their enemies before slaying them. Whatever crafted this, I would need to look upon it before I could kill it, and I feared horrors beyond words. 

The terrain stopped making sense as I went further in through the web. As I went further in the scent became too much to bear. The blade might not have worked, but I took one of the white scraps of cloth from the blade and tied it over my mouth and nose, trying to filter out whatever I could. It wasn’t a great solution. The incense that had once imbibed the cloth was faint and breathing it in changed the air only the slightest bit. 

It was better than nothing, just not by much. 

The ground had come away, it was covered over in flaps of skin, embroidered with strange symbols. They were sewn in with human hair, all different shades. I didn’t want to tread upon them, but there was no dirt, no earth to take instead. They began to slant upwards, like a bridge into the trees and I was locked in by row upon row of woven entrails. 

The ground shifted beneath me as it rose in the air, and I found myself clutching the woven ropes to regain my balance. They were slick and moist, my hands always came away damp and bloody. The soles of my feet were the same, despite my constant wiping them on the mats. 

I had to sit down and work to remove something squishy and pulsing that got caught between my toes. I tried to carry on in spite of it, but there was no living with it. I had just pulled it free when I heard a faint whisper. 

“We’ve got to….” 

I turned my head in all directions, not negating to look above and below me, but I could not find any creatures. I didn’t see tails or horns, teeth or claws. There was not even any sign of the masks that those strange children had worn. 

I wanted to convince myself that I’d imagined it, that the whisper wasn’t real and was somehow just the air playing tricks on me as it shook the abhorrent web. Wishful thinking was just going to end up killing me, and I knew that my ears hadn’t failed me. 

“Come out!” I shouted. 

My words echoed, despite the lack of walls for them to echo off. It wasn’t a bouncing as through tree branches but a distinctive echo as I ducked under and climbed over the bloody barriers. 

“Show yourself!” 

The faint whisper came again, “We’ve…” 

I stopped in my tracks and stared at one of the corpses hanging from the woven bands. I was not going to be fooled again as in the fairy ring. If the dead were talking I would learn of it now, in this very moment. I looked right at the sockets where the dead girl’s eyes used to be and shouted again. 

“Come out!” 

“..got to…” 

The whispers but not the movements. The echoes were not coming from the people stitched into the trees. 

I didn’t feel as relieved about that as I would’ve liked too. I almost wanted it to be them. If I could’ve explained the sounds away I might’ve been able to settle my pounding heart. It seemed liable to break through my chest at this point. 

I kept on, and things got worse. Bones, fingers and toes were hung along the path, not in the haphazard fashion of hedge witches and voodoo practitioners, but calculated and precise. Fingers were woven together hundreds upon hundreds. They were as delicate and precise as interlace in illuminated texts. 

But you’d hesistate to call them beautiful. Nothing about them was beautiful. 

“We’ve….to….” 

“Stop whispering!” I shouted. 

I had the curtesy to shout. If I had something to say I would make it heard, was it so ridiculous to expect the same from these endless trials. I went to punch one of them, my sword not work but my hands could still shatter. 

It might’ve worked too if my foot hadn’t caught in one of the woven intestine cords. I was slammed onto the skin-rugs face first. 

Blood had gotten everywhere now. I looked more like a robin then a crow, red stains on black feathers. Was this how birds got their colors in all of Templeton’s stories? Everything boiled down to blood and bone. 

“…got…” 

I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, not with all the echoes. I tried to ignore it, but like water leaking from a faucet it came again and again. As regular as the dropping water were the snippets of unfinished sentences, and each one drove me closer to madness. 

I wanted to reach for the sword again, but knowing it wouldn’t work stayed my hand. So long I had relied upon its light, why now must it falter? 

“Whats happened to you, church boy?” I muttered. 

That too echoced, calls of “..church boy, …church boy, ….church boy” beckoning me deeper along the path. It was unnerving to be guided by my own voice through a place I had never been. I didn’t even know if I was telling me to go the right way anymore. Was this the Crow or Fwahe talking? It was hard to keep them separate 

You have trouble keeping me separate as well, false one. 

That voice hadn’t echoed and didn’t whisper. Words that sounded cold in a voice that was too close to my own to be comfortable. 

“Who are you?” I shouted. 

“We’ve……to” 

“Not you.” I muttered. 

Seems you’re talking to me again. Does that mean you’re talking to yourself? 

Why didn’t her voice echo? 

Now was not the time to be focused on voices that didn’t echo, voices that came from other places. I could only handle so much strangeness in one sitting and the corpses draped about like precious ornaments more than satisfied that allotment. 

“We’ve….” 

This time the whisper was followed by a clicking, rapid and furious. Clicking and the slick wet packing sounds of raw meat being handled. More corpses, the web was not yet finished. How could anyone, anything want to expand this? The deeper I went the greater the urge to turn back became. 

Pattern after pattern, I passed under sickening things. Lines of heads, pinned to different expressions looked down from bone rafters, woven together by strings of pink flesh. The faces were all pinned up in different expressions. Smiling and then frowning. Eyebrows raised and then furrowed. There was happy, sad and angry, everything doctored to repeat in threes just like that. A hall of soulless eye sockets and forced feelings. 

I found wreaths made from hands and wrists. The nails were decorated with fly’s wings and small bug’s legs. All down the fingers were symbols painted in blood, layer after layer. Wreath after wreath, some of them towered so large around that I had to walk through them, and could see the mirrored set of hands reaching up from below. There were eyes too. Eyes by the thousand, in every color. I almost could not begrudge that, beign as I carried the eye of another. One was hardly a collection though, and this was beyond obsession. None of them were left in the skulls of the dead, but each taken and placed in another, wrongful spot. Eyes in the center of open palms, eyes imbedded in kneecaps, or strung overhead like Yultide boughs. 

As I drew nearer what I assumed to be the center of the web things became messier. There were nots in the stiches and some places seemed to be made from yarn and strings instead of flesh. Nothing had the uniformity that the path I’d come from displayed. Knots everywhere, tangled yarn, red as anything but definitely yarn and not flesh. The web became a net and every step through the fledging stitches pulled close around my flesh. The loops became nooses around my ankles, my wrists pulling tighter the more I struggled. 

If I was the fly where dwelt the spider? 

I was ensnared with such gradual slowness it didn’t hit me until I could take no more steps forward. Everything pulled tight, the ground came away and I was hanging, wrists pulled to either side, stretched beyond capacity. I feared snapping. The legs were dealt with the same way. I began to struggle, furiously trying to break free of the bindings, but there was nothing to be done. I could not reach my sword, and even if I were able it did not cut through this stuff. 

I had heard about spiders that ate birds. If given preference I would’ve preferred to return to the caves of Moto Maji and join his collection of skeletons. I didn’t want to become a part of this project. 

The clicking intensified. It was metallic, like two rods coming together, two swords exchanging blows. Like pins in machinery, not a natural clicking as of many millipede’s feet over hard ground. Kos almighty she had hated bugs. 

You would think a fearsome sorceress wouldn’t shy from small things, someone who was able to conjure and command the spirts would be able to stand against a spider, but she would scream bloody murder whenever one crawled on her. I had been the fearsome slayer of many crawling things, always handsomely rewarded with embrace and kisses. I had slain so many bugs for her. 

I waited to see what would crawl up to kill me, the one thing that might’ve merited the fear Frigga felt when she was subjected to the sight of one of the many-legged creatures. I looked around as the clicking intensified echoing off the cave that was only there in bloody sketch. 

With every twist of the head I felt something scrape and itch at the back of my neck. It worked its way over the scarred letter “V” irritating old wounds. 

I pulled at the strings until my wrist bled, blood dripping down the strings and dying red yarn sickly silver. At last I was able to shift my shoulders and swing my head to see another noose dangling from the branching bone and sinew above. This one was meant for my neck, though it was made of the self-same yarn that held me splayed. 

Was the web alive, or had the noose just passed my notice? I tried to observe it more closely, but soon the pain in my wrist became overbearing and I had to surrender back to my original position. All I could hear was the clicking, as the noose behind me swayed back and forth across my neck. It felt like a threat. 

I hung there for what felt like hours. I learned to tell time by how far my own blood dripped down my arm, slow-moving but steady. Before long it would pass my shoulder, to well over my collarbone and pour down my chest. It looked like someone had painted armor on me, the silver blood so much resembling bracers and breastplates like knights were supposed to wear. 

I was no knight now. The chains over me were no suit of armour. 

Still yet I was no captive, though held it would not be forever. I would not let it be forever. The chains I were stood as a promise not a prison. I could not unbind them they would not yield. String, however could be twisted and snapped. This could bend and brake and come away until I was free of its stringing bite. 

Swords may not work, knives could dull and loose their edge. Metal might have become sick in this strange place but I trusted my teeth. If I could only stretch my neck just a little farther, pull my wrist in tighter then I could take the binding between my teeth and snap it. How hard could yarn hold? 

These teeth had broken through bone. Fibers and string wouldn’t stand a chance. I has nearly split my shoulder blade but at last the cord came between my teeth. It caught on a canine and I started to saw back and forth. I had thought I was making decent progress, but then the clicking intensified and the whole web shook. Like a rubber band stretched to its limits, the string suddenly snapped back into place. It cut me across the tongue and my mouth was flooded with the taste of silver. 

The floor below began to warble. The mats of skin and loose loops of yarn were deftly moved aside and I saw a tangle of yet more thread below them. With so many layers to get lost in I had difficulty figuring out what was alive and what was dead. 

It came through the floor like something clawing its way out of a pit, desperately scraping for purchase. It was clumsier then I, and I expected the loops of string to tighten around its wrists and pull it away, just as the wretched web had with me. They did not shift in the slightest, holding as steady as stone until they were induced to move aside. 

A gigantic pin, the kind used for holding fabric in place, poked its way through the mess of body parts and splayed skin. It was held in a hand, shaking and pale. Purple bruises covered the fingers and spread down boiled flaking skin. There were hundreds of strings tied around the fingers ranging from thin finishing line to tri-weave leather cord. Ring after ring of strings, and they ran all down arms too. There were so many arms. 

A second pin joined the first, piercing through holes until it bored into a bone and could be used as leverage. More hands, and a tangled mass of red yarn started to come through the floor. At last I could make out the whispered words. 

“We’ve got to stick together.” 

The voice was dry and sickly, just as Frigga’s had been. You could hear scars in the sounds. Every cough had made its mark. 

That was her voice though- not this creature’s. The scratching sounds in its throat that strangled voice to whisper were deserved a thousand times over for the way it had trapped me and so many others. 

“We’ve got to stick together.” 

I saw the face now, the whole thing. I saw the shape of the monster and it was no spider, no bug but something horribly human. Arms sprouted from its back in twisted ingrown shapes like thorns and unkempt hedges. Red yarn was tangled between them in bulbous knots, looking like shaking hands had scribbled a deformed turtle shell on the things back. The legs were long and twisted, bent inwards at the knee making each step the creature took a staggered skitter more then a stride. All of the skin was that mottled pale and purple. Bruises and boils were everywhere. 

It wore a ragged sweater, made partially from red yarn and partially from intestines that I truly believed were its own. The bottom and the sleeves had become frayed beyond belief, so that bloody loose strings hung everwhere and painted red lines over the red ground. It was a trail easily followed on clean ground, but in this place it would’ve been impossible. 

The face retained youth in odd places, soft cheeks despite discoloration and a fluffy cloud of cornsilk hair, streaked with cobwebs and black dirt. The eyes were missing though, crusted rivers of blackened blood coating the holes they once stayed in and marked down its cheeks, over its lips, in every place it had spilled. 

“We’ve got to stick together.” It said. 

The arms on its back began to pull apart the mounds of red yarn, all of them working in a frenzy. If they were feet I would’ve said that they were tripping over each other. None of it seemed to be cooperative, each set of five fingers fighting the others to pull free a looping coil of entrails. It came over to me, using the pins like crutches so that its awkward broken feet could scrape over the ground. 

“Cut me down.” I said. 

“Can’t do that.” It replied, “We’ve got to stick together.” 

I was surprised to find it intelligent enough to respond. 

“Cut me down. I want to leave. This place is disgusting.” 

“No one leaves.” It said. It came up to me and reached inside its stomach wit one of the mangled arms. It reached right through the fraying sweater and pulled a measuring tape from its stomach. It frantically wiped blood and stomach acids from the yellowed paper and stretched it out from the tips of my left fingers to those of my right, measuring the span of my arms. 

“Cut me down!” I ordered. 

“No one leaves!” It spat back, “The plague is coming Ma said. We’ve got to stick together. Everyone was running but Ma said no leaving. Gotta be tight knit. I got the coughings and Ma wanted to leave but she said stick together. Tight knit. Don’t I knit tight?” 

This wasn’t what tight knit meant. That wasn’t what any of that met. Somewhere inside its brains were broken. It had created all of this, killed everyone and everything. I wouldn’t die here, not for some miserable misunderstanding in the hands of a monster. 

“Ma said I was no good with needles. Leslie she says, Leslie you ain’t nothin’ but a useless lump. She says stick together. She says stay tight knit. Leslie ain’t useless now Ma. I knit tight. I learned. You can’t say I didn’t learn.” 

As Leslie spoke in frantic sentances it splayed my fingers and began to wind woven entrails about my hands. I tried to close my fingers, and it shoved its pin right through my palm, incredible strength from all the multitudes of hands. 

“We’ve got to stick together.” Leslie said, “You are part of us now and we’ve got to stick together.” 

“I’m not from here!” I said. 

“Take in all kinds, Ma says so. We’ve got to stick together.” 

This was madness. Plain and simple, and no amount of debate would get it to change its mind. I tried to scratch Leslie, so it slipped thimbles over my fingers. I was starting to loose feeling in my left hand, the pin driven through all the way through caused throbbing bolts of pain to shoot up my arm. I couldn’t afford to lose it. I was so close. So close to the tournament and to Frith. Everything was coming unraveled now. 

“You’ve got to let me go.” I said, “I don’t belong here.” 

“We’ve got to stick together.” Said Leslie. 

“But there’s other people.” I told it, “There are others out there…I’ve got to…I’ve got to bring them back.” 

“Others?” It asked cocking its head to the side. 

How could it see without eyes? Four of the hands on its back reached out to scratch the things fluffy hair while it pondered my words. Clumps of cornsilk littered to the floor, the chipped yellow nails of the battered hands scratching so hard that the scalp split and bled. I was astounded it still had blood left with its stomach split open like that. 

“Can’t be anyone else. I got them all. I checked.” Leslie said. 

“There is another person! There are other people!” I insisted. “If you let me go I’ll bring them back. There is a man called Alfred. He isn’t sticking together. He has left. Let me go fetch him and then I will come back to your tight knit family. You can have us both, and all the others too.” 

The scratching got worse, furious, down to bone. There was a hole in its head. Once Leslie realized it was there they stuffed it full of cotton and sewed it back up, all without eyes or looking. Some hands worked to fix while others broke open new parts. It was as though it could not agree with itself. 

“No.” It said, shoving the pin through my other hand. “You’re fibbin’. Ma says not to tell fibs. Ma says we’ve got to stick together. We’ve got to stick together.” I tried to argue and found fingers at my lips starting to stich them shut. The first digit that came through I bit off, swallowing the crusted flesh and gnarled nail down in one gulp. 

The problem was that Leslie had other fingers, and plenty of thread. 

“We’ve got to stick together.” It said, “We’ve got to stick together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought, and thanks for reading!


	7. My Eternal Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alois and Kane have driven Kohso all the way to journey's end, and await the finding of the mirror.

I don’t imagine I had ever been in a castle before, though I must have. According to Her Ladyship I had spent a significant portion of my life at Cainhurst Castle. If that was the case I couldn’t explain why, but I’d expected it to be warmer. I wanted to feel safe inside stone walls, but the wind howled through cracks in the mortar and with the sea raging beneath the whole building seemed to sway back and forth. That may have just been me though, as Her Ladyship and His Lordship both walked with steady unwavering stride. For me the whole world seemed to spin. 

It must’ve been the exhaustion. I didn’t know how I was going to be able to follow Her Ladyship’s commands and split the mirror when I’d crawled most of the way here. There were rocks in my palms, but I didn’t have the strength left to pull them out. They stung, just like everything else. 

“Are you sure this is the right place?” His Lordship asked. 

“Yes.” Her Ladyship replied, “We’ve just got to find the mirror. It will be ringed in silver. I have seen it in my dreams, it is a thing of great beauty and size, large enough for a man to step through. I imagine we won’t have much trouble finding it.” 

“We won’t be looking.” His Lordship said, “You need rest.” 

She must’ve been too tired to protest, and gave him a weary nod. 

I followed them into a throne room. There were highbacked chairs and soaring ceilings. Her Ladyship sat herself down gently. The ancient velvet cushion was covered in dust. The tiny motes had worked their way through the varnish and become a part of the wood, forever sullying it. The place hadn’t seen servants in a long time. 

His Lordship spat at me as he went past. I didn’t care, I was just glad it wasn’t a kick or a strike from the thorn bundle. He hadn’t brought it with us, but it wasn’t as though thorns were sparse in these places. He could always get more and make last night happen over again. I wouldn’t survive it this time. I didn’t think so anyway. Could you die if you were already dead? 

His Lordship closed the door to the throne room. It felt like nothing so much as being sealed in a tomb. 

“Has it learned its lesson?” Her Ladyship asked me. 

Yes. Yes. I wanted to say it. I wanted to tell her exactly what she wished to hear, to bow and be grateful to her for my eventual curing, but last night had only reaffirmed what I already knew to be true. If I let her take away my sins then His Lordship would do everything in his power to ruin her. 

“Please.” I said, “You’ve got to understand me, your Ladyship. If you cure me your brother is going to do terrible things to you! He told me he wanted to….well…bed you, your Ladyship. Please keep me as I am so that I can satisfy his desires on your behalf.” 

What more could I say then that? She could choose to believe me or think me a liar but I had told the truth. She might order me slain or scourged but I had warned her. Waiting for Her Ladyship’s response seemed to take a century. I was not supposed to look upon her, to turn my face up to hers but I found my neck strained upwards all the same. 

She set on that throne like a jewel on a ring, finally cut and placed in its perfect position. None should ever dislodge her, yet my words had. 

She laughed and rose. I stayed on my knees as she came down from the throne, step after metallic step echoing in the rafters. 

“Does it think me stupid?” She asked. “Does it think me a fool?” 

I quickly gathered that these were not questions meant to be answered. I dropped my gaze, arms laid out in front of me, my forehead resting on my scarred wrists. They were still tender from the handcuffs. The clicking boots came closer, faster. 

“Does it think I had lived all that time at Cainhurst, ignorant of my brother’s perverse appetites?” She asked. 

There was a sound like a snap, she brought her heels together in front of me. I felt the whole room shake- my body wracked by shivers. 

“Does it have the gall to answer when it is asked a question?” 

“Yes, your ladyship.” I said quickly, “I-I-I mean no, your ladyship…I…” 

She took my chin in her hand and wrenched my eyes skyward. I’d never seen a colder shade of blue. 

“Cease this babbling.” She commanded. 

“Your ladyship, I would suffer for you- gladly. I can take care of His Lordship’s desires. All of them. Y-y-you saw me do it.” I said. 

“Do you think I’m helpless? Do you know how many times Kane came to my bedroom? How he attempted to part my legs? I suffered under his desires when I was I was young, but quickly rose above them. Do not think me impure, do not think me imperfect. His every attempt was thwarted. It would not understand these things. It should not even see fit to question these things.” 

With every word she spoke he grip got tighter and tighter. I could feel her nails in my skin, deep enough to draw blood. I could hear the shaking of bones. They were going to snap. 

“Your Ladyship, please, your hand!” I cautioned. 

Like being burnt from the stove she withdrew instantly. This place must’ve rekindled the old power she was used to holding. She was trying to wield strength beyond her ability, and it would surely spell her demise. 

“It insults me for the last time.” She said, clicking back to her throne. She sat with one leg crossed over the other, arms elegantly draped over the sides of the chair. She seemed content to wait for His Lordship’s return, which followed quickly thereafter. 

The doors parted and in he strode. I looked to his arms but he held no mirror. From the grin on his face it seemed he had at least been able to locate it. I doubted he would return so soon a failure. In another moment my assumption was confirmed. 

“I’ve found it.” He said. 

“Good.” She replied, “Let us go too it with all due haste.” 

I stood up to follow, but before I’d completely risen heard the sharp click of fingers snapping. I froze and looked to her. Her pointer finger was extended towards the floor. I sunk back to my knees. 

“Before we go,” She said, “I need you to break it’s hand.” 

“What?” I asked. 

“It insulted me.” She sighed, “Yet again. There are lessons to be learned.” 

“No please!” I begged, “I didn’t mean it like that, your Ladyship!” 

She would not reconsider. She snapped her fingers again, and I could not resist. This was the woman who had redeemed me. If she wanted to break my hands they were hers to shatter. I turned my face aside, pressing my forehead to the ancient floor, and stretching my hands, palms down flat in front of me. I tried not to shake, but each little quiver was reflected tenfold in the loathsome feathers. 

I want to take the wings off- but I can’t. 

“It does not think me strong enough. I am not a weak-willed flower. “ She said. 

“I’m sorry!” I said, “Please, your Ladyship. Please I-“ 

“Silence!” She barked. “Does it always whine like this? Is it always so loud?” 

“Especially in bed.” His Lordship replied, “As you’ve heard.” 

“Oh yes. It does scream ever so much.” She said. 

“I could induce other sounds, if you’d prefer.” His Lordship offered, “Should you wish something pleasurable to fill your ears I will-“ 

“No.” She said, “In life it had enough of that, stealing it from helpless women. Break its hand and let us away- speak of it no more.” 

“Yes, sweet sister.” His Lordship agreed. 

I didn’t watch it happen, didn’t see His Lordship’s boot hovering over me like a proverbial guillotine, but Gods did I feel it. He brought the heel of his boot down three times- twice on my wrist and once over the hollow bones of my clawed hands. I tried not to scream, biting my lips until they bled. Nothing worked anymore, and when Her Ladyship bade me to stand I had to shift onto my shoulders in order to rise. It was an awkward motion and I was ashamed to have to endure it in front of the two of them. 

“Stay your tears.” Her Ladyship snapped. 

“Y-yes, your Ladyship.” I said. 

“Kane take the chain, and lead on.” 

I felt his hands pull, and followed dutifully after. I couldn’t keep the tears from my cheeks, not entirely but I did my best to subdue the noise. Horrid snot-filled snuffling plagued my nostrils which was ever harder to quiet, but Her Ladyship set a distance between us that was helpful in maintaining her desired silence. In every throb of pain I was reminded to keep quiet. Speaking had only brought on more problems. 

That’s what came from thinking I knew best. How stupid I must’ve been. Her Ladyship said he was her trusted enforcer, of course she would know all of his nature. As we walked the dusty halls it was painted in her every action. She spoke to him, not with him. Every step was measured, the distance calculated so as to not present wrongful impression. There was never a touch, nor embrace that she initiated. Every one of their interactions happened because she allowed it, not because His Lordship wished it to be so. 

Our journey terminated in a hall lined with suits of armor. The suits had all been wrought in different poses, more for sculpture and display then practical use. They were all cowering, all turned away or suffering from the mirrior which towered over them from the end of the hall. It was a massive thing. Men standing on eachothers shoulders, three tall could not have touched the top of it. 

“This…I mean this has to be it right?” His Lordship asked. 

Her Ladyship didn’t say anything. She was silent, awestruck even by the site of the towering mirror. 

“Alois?” He prodded. 

She blinked several times, bringing herself back down to reality. “Yes.” She said, then with greater volume and stronger conviction, “Yes this is it.” 

“Excellent.” Kane said, clapping his hands together. Currently he was the only one of us who could do so. “What do we do now?” 

“Now, the mirror will be split.” She said. 

They both looked at me. All this way I’d been told I was going to split the mirror, that it was some kind of destiny, or holy obligation. I was glad to serve Her Ladyship beyond the limits of my ability, but never had I been given instructions on just how exactly I was supposed to perform this splitting. I was terrified to ask questions and further invoke Her Ladyship’s rage. Speaking out of turn only brought on greater and greater problems. 

It was just, the look of the place that held me from stepping forward like the obedient servant I longed to be. All of the armour suits seemed to warm of impending doom should failure in the face of the mirror occur. I didn’t want to disappoint her, but I did not wish to perish inside of these cold and drafty walls for all time. 

Selfish. 

Gods frown upon me, how selfish was I going to get? I swallowed all of my own desires down and stepped as far forward as the chain would allow. I was somewhat surprised that His Lordship didn’t kick me down immediately, offended I saw fit to walk in front of him. Neither of them moved. 

I heard the clatter of chains as His Lordship let my line fall to the floor. It slithered over the rug leading up to the mirror, a metal snake on woven floors. There was no dust on the reflective surface and I could see myself within it- what was left of me anyway. There wasn’t much beyond the feathers and scarred flesh. All of the marks from the thorns, the whips and the rest left stripes over my skin- so many that it looked natural like it was just some mutant coloration due to the infection. 

My eye was still black, darkened from where it had met with His Lordship’s fists. Of course, the wings loomed also, only one grown all the way. The other was still shrunken and shriveled, preventing all flight and use. It was only going to get worse the longer I tarried. Gazing at myself wasn’t going to split the mirror- crack it maybe, but not split it. 

There was a difference in those things, I just wasn’t certain what it was. I examined the mirrors frame, but apart from being extremely large there didn’t seem to be anything particularly odd about it. The surface too, seemed to be the same as any other. I reached out to touch it, inspect the surface with my clawed fingers. Just before they made contact Her Ladyship’s voice stayed me. 

“Kohso?” 

To be given my name again made my eyes well afresh with tears, though these were of a sweeter sort. 

“Yes, your Ladyship?” I replied. 

“Do not fail me.” 

I swallowed, trying to keep all of the fear in my stomach, out of sight. I couldn’t manage any words, so I just nodded. 

There was something wrong when I turned back to my reflection. I squinted trying to search out the missing detail, find where things had gone wrong. Whatever I was missing could be the difference between triumph and tragedy. 

Children played games like this, looking at two images that at first glance appeared to be the same but upon closer view there were things changed or omitted from one.Spot the difference, that’s what I aimed to do. I was sure that it was there- if only I could find it. 

I took a step back, which caused His Lordship to surge forward. His hands pressed against my scarred back, ready to shove me into the mirror if that’s what it meant to split things. 

“Kane don’t!” Her Ladyship commanded “He will not shirk from the task.” 

I didn’t intend too. From a further vantage point my eyes began to move around the mirror like the slow-ticking hand of a clock examining each section for discrepancy. There were a thousand things to make note of, and I went so far as to trace every vein in every leaf of flower filigree that adorned the reflected armor of the many suits in the hall. 

Mirrors set everything askew, made left right and right left, but something they did not normally do, was turn objects upside down. Clutched in the hands of one of the knights was a fraying banner, a flag that might’ve been carried into battle at one time. The standard-bearer clutched his burden in tight fist, but at long last I realized why my eyes kept returning too it. 

I turned around to check, and switched back and forth several times to verify it, but now that I’d landed on it- there could be no denial. The sigil on the flag in the world of the dead was a golden arrowheard, pointed upwards. In the mirror it was rendered as two rampant lions, back to back, that merger to a triangular downwards point. At a glance anyone would’ve said they were the same, but now it was absolute, there could be no debating it. 

“I won’t let you down, my lady.” I said. 

I placed my hand on the sigil in the mirror. It hurt my fingertips, the glass was like ice. The frost spread around my wrist, locking me in place and tugging, like an unseen fist. In a blur of white smoke I was pulled away from my masters and beyond the frame of the mirror. I closed my eyes, air coming at me in cold bursts that were too much for them to take on their own. Everything was so cold, I could feel ice catching in the loathsome wings. I was starting to sink into the currents, and whatever had its grip on me pulled me tighter, pulled me up and away from the unknowable current. The rush of it all made my head pound. 

I don’t really think I took a breath until it stopped. I was suddenly very afraid to open my eyes, taking in what I could from behind the darkened curtains of my eyelids. My feet were on solid ground, it felt like something rough, something gone to decay. Worn wood, that’s what it must’ve been. Incense choked the air, tickling my throat and begging me to cough and sputter. I tried to keep the sounds of sickness buried deep inside myself. It was only the infection that made the air so heavy, that made the scent of sage, lavender and other burning herbs itched. 

The slurping sounds of water ebbing and flowing were all around. I found them comforting and gradually felt comfortable parting eyelashes and raising the curtain. I had been put atop a wooden pole, one in a line that stretched across a swirling pond. I could not see the bank on the other side. The sky was white, obscured by fog. The low-lying clouds closed in to the sides and overhead, forcing tunnel vision. 

The only clear path was the poles in front of me. I didn’t trust my balance, not now when my wings were crusted with ice, when Kane’s bundle of thorns had flayed my feet. I’d had to crawl up solid ground, how was I meant to tread the thin line in front of me. I started to shake, and had to calm myself with deep breaths, no reason to end this trial before it had even begun. 

I liked to climb on church rooftops, I knew how to balance. I had scaled the Cliffside with a broken body, bearing my weight along with Her Ladyships. I had survived my nightly atonements, and when Her Ladyship asked me to scream I had satisfied her. I led His Lordship out of the cave of snail women. I could walk across a few posts. 

I tried to breathe in all the confidence and strength I possessed, breathing out the fear and exhaustion. I took the first step, holding my arms out to the sides to help me balance. I found that in this place, my hand didn’t hurt quite so bad as before. It was strange, but with a concentrated effort I could even get my fingertips to curl. I suppose His Lordship’s boot hadn’t come down with the strength he’d expected. I’d been lucky then, but my luck would not hold out here. 

When I’d gotten myself to the second post, the fog began to shift. I heard horrible screams coming from it, pleas for mercy and people begging to be slain. Above them was a cracking sound, like fractured ice. I tried not to listen and took another step. The cracking sound came again, and I felt the collar around my neck go tight. 

I hadn’t accounted for the chain. I was so used to it being held in Her Ladyship or His Lordship’s hands that I hadn’t thought to carry it myself. It had snagged around the base of the first post, when straining for the third it pulled me back. I shook and stumbled, feet slipping off the edge. 

Thank the gods His Lordship hadn’t truly broken my hand. As I fell I was able to grip the top of the post with my fingers, and save myself from dropping into the lake. The screaming got louder, and the fog closed in tight. It began to form shapes as I struggled to pull myself back up. 

It wasn’t that my strength was gone- it seemed to be there in all its fullness. There was just something else pulling me downward, trying to take me below the shimmering surface of the pond. I didn’t have time for stuff like this, Her Ladyship was falling apart. 

I made it back to the top of the post and began struggling to pull the chain from the pond. The water held it more strongly then I thought possible, and the loner I toiled with it the stranger the fog became. I began to see shapes inside of it, at first things from Her Ladyship’s lessons about my life. There was an army lined up on either side of me. To the left in their spiked helms carrying the horrible wheels on their shoulders were the loathsome Executioners. To the right the noble and just knights of Cainhurst with their gleaming helms and sparkling shoulder capes. 

The screaming stopped and the speeches began. There was much swearing and debated between the two parties as the Vilebloods campaigned for peace and the Executioners pressed for war. At last when they could tolerate each other no more, a man at the forefront tore off his gold Ardeo helmet and threw it into the line of Vileblood soldiers. He had curled hair and an angry face. He continued to shout devotions to the wretched Logarius even after the Vilebloods drew their swords and made their advance. 

It was hard to free a chain when two armies were screaming at you, but with one final tug I pried it free. The metal rose from the lake hot, steam coming off of it in waves. I didn’t want to think what might’ve caused it to behave that way. I didn’t have time to wait until it was cooler, I had to press on. I passed the searing metal between my hands as I stepped onto the fourth, fifth and sixth poles. Each one produced the same fractured-ice cracking noise as before. It put the army behind me and the din of their warcries faded to nothing. 

When I looked behind me, unsure if there had even been the visions in the first place the trail had been closed. The fog had joined together and I couldn’t see any of the posts from before nor the soldiers. The only way was to go forward. 

When I reached the seventh post the cracking got even louder. The sky was as a giant eggshell being cracked. Soon the sun would slump down like running yolk and drown the world in yellow absolution. 

It would be nice to see yellow, or any other color at this point. Everything seemed faded to pale specters of what had once been, all muggy and unclear except, of course for the fog. The shapes inside of it were easy to see. The battle had vanished, in its place rose a sea faring village that burned with familiarity. It was distant and stationary, not something I would gradually walk too as a mountain in the distance but something to pass by as a town in direction opposite one’s destiny. 

A man on a fishing boat drifted closer to me, rowing to catch up as I continued my tight-rope steps on the narrow path. He called out to me, cupping his hands and truly shouting. 

“Uriah!” 

A name that was not my own. 

“Uriah come away from there! It’s dangerous! Uriah get back here!” 

Something in his voice was the scolding of children. I did not stop for him or his village but carried on ever faster. His words soon became lost to the cracking noises overhead and the fog changed shape once more. I was met with many things, all of them trying to distract me in one way or another. I did nearly fall into the pond when two massive Amygdala arms came down and started grabbing for me. 

Perhaps it was wrong to try and avoid the hands of god, but in these foggy shadows I thought it best to press on. I narrowly avoided catching my wings on their hooked fingernails. The gods themselves could not stop me from saving her. 

Beautiful Mother Kos tried too. I could see her divine form appearing from the waves and singing sad songs. Her voice was every waterfall and river, every bit of rain that ever fell on sloped rooftop. The gurgle of fountains, the song of the stream and waves against rocks, all of it called to me with such urgent sadness it was hard to keep to the path. 

If I only had the space I would kneel and offer prayer, but there was precious little purchase to begin with. To fall to my own knees would surely turn my balance for the worst and I would doubtless fall victim to whatever waited for me in the water. She deserved thanks I could not possibly bestow. 

“Kohso won’t you return to us?” A brigade of church goers dressed in white implored. They all held burning white wax candles, and had the hoods of their robes pulled up to hide their faces. I didn’t know what to make of them. They stood in front of a massive cathedral whose spires towered up out of sight. 

Odeon Chapel. 

Somehow I knew its name. Kos had spoken of it before, when she wrongly placed my origin at that church, but seeing it now I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was important. The feeling that I had been there became as difficult to navigate as the path I physically walked. 

“Come back to us Kohso.” They begged. 

I stopped and turned to them. “I..I’m not from you.” 

There was a hiss, like cold water on a hot stove. The hoods of the church goers slid back to reveal glowing yellow eyes and twisted horns. Their wax candles melted into claws that extended from their gnarled hands. 

“You don’t remember us?” They asked, all in unison. When their mouths opened I saw row upon row of sharp yellow teeth resting in black gums. Blood like weeping fog spilled out from their lips and turned the water below crimson. 

I felt riveted in place, every bone locking up out of fear. I screamed at myself to keep moving, that staying put was nothing but death and failure. No amount of self-admonishment yielded result. The twisted church goers closed in around me, bringing their black fog curtains with them. Everything smelled of vinegar and elderberries, the scent of death and poison. 

I could no longer see the post in front of me. All that remained was the yellow eyes and the burning candle flames, crystalized in the tips of their waxen claws. 

“Please.” I said, but it did nothing to slow them. “Please I’ve got to keep going. You’ve got to let me pass. She’s counting on me!” 

Every word I spoke brought them closer. I could feel their breath on my back, hot and stale. They spoke to each other in bone chatters, clicking teeth and the rattle of fingernails. Not that I was calling to them they did not call to me. 

I feared what was to happen when one did finally reach out and touch me, what would happen then. Was it better to wait until they reached me, or try and reach the next pole while it was shrouded in darkness? 

I should’ve known this would happen. Who could trust a crow to complete a trial of such grave importance? If only I had stop to think for a moment another, better conclusion might have been reached. I could’ve found the means to infect His Lordship so that he might’ve been tainted just enough to cross through the mirror and complete the task on his own. Really when it came to matters of strength and courage he had both in far more abundance then I. 

Sadly this place between mirrors, between worlds would lay no mercy upon my remorseful soul. All of the fog around me had gone black, the yellow sun to be dreamed of no more.


	8. I Want To Take The Wings Off But I Can't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which your poor inkslinger tries to write a very ambitious fight scene.  
> Disclaimer that Elhrair-Rah is a direct refrence/nod to El-Lahrairah of Watership Down. 
> 
> Also have my rendering of Leslie  
> 

What good was a mouth that couldn’t open? 

What good were teeth once rendered unable to tear at food and flesh? 

The answers hardly seemed to matter anymore. I could not break free of Leslie’s thin threads no matter how hard I thrashed. The world seemed to echo my own sentiments, for as the wretched creature put the final stitch through the corner of my mouth, the sky went black. 

Leslie shrieked in terror and all of it’s many hands dropped their needles, thread, viscera and other assorted unsavory objects at once. 

“See I told you!” I wanted to shout, though silenced, “There are other people out there!” 

People might’ve been the wrong term. I didn’t know anyone who could darken the sky. Then again before Alfred had done it, I didn’t think anyone could pin a god to the moon either. The netting above us began to pale and disentigrate. 

“No!” Leslie screamed as it watched its creation crumble. It gathered the piles of dust in its hands, trying to stitch things back together. It worked furiously all arms sawing wildly with needle and thread. Leslie didn’t even notice when it pierced its own flesh, unable to keep itself safe working at such a rapid pace. It became sewn to the floor and the walls, locked in a net of its own making. 

It was only when the Rabbit prince himself came down from the sky that Leslie saw what it had done. By then of course, as always it was too late. No one ever notices too early, but by god thee are numbers in the uncountable quantities who realize too late. Leslie joined them as the Rabbit, unthinkably large came bounding through the remnants of his prison. I could hear him coming, crashing through died bone and bodies like the roots in the runs of a warren. 

For a terrible few minutes I feared I would suffer the same fate as the web I’d forcibly been made part of. Becoming dust because the sky went dark was only marginally better then withering away as a result of Leslie’s imprisonment. 

“It is not right for you to expire here.” 

Now I came face to face with the Rabbit Prince. He was as tall as a house, and possessed three eyes just as the serpent king had. Around his neck hovered a bobbing astral collar of shimmering stars. Some of their dust had landed in his pointed ears, for they sparkled as well. The Rabbit Prince’s fur glistened, his whiskers were short and neat. 

With a flick of his ear my bonds came away and the stitches dissolved from my lips. The bleeding holes and the lacerations on my wrists did not vanish or instantly heal. There were no miracles, but it was satisfaction enough to be free of them and rid of the horrific landscape. Now it was nothing but white powder and skeleton trees as far as the eye could see. 

“I didn’t want to die by that…things hands either.” I agreed. 

The Rabbit Prince laughed, “You are as feisty as they say.” 

“Who speaks of me?” I asked. 

“We have not the time to list the gods who’ve taken a particular interest in your situation. Many bets ride on your placement in the tournament that honors my captain.” He said, “Do you know who I am?” 

“The Rabbit Prince, Elahrair-Rah.” I said. 

He smiled. It was an odd thing to see a rabbit smile. “That I am. Do you know what my name means, when it is spoken amongst my kin?” 

This I did not know, and I told him so. 

“I am called “Prince with a Thousand Enemies.” He replied, “And even I haven’t as many out for my skin as you do for yours.” 

“A thousand doesn’t come close.” I agreed. 

“Even as there are more that trail you, I must ask of you to dispel one that wishes my pelt for a trophy. He would wear it as a fine cape, and I cannot abide an early death. There are too many that I need protect, too many strong young rabbits who believe in me. I have saved your life, Fwahe, with the stipulation that you must save mine. The knight who pinned the God to the moon wants to hunt me down too, and I fear I may not outrun him.” 

“I’ve already vowed to slay him.” I said. 

“Indeed you have.” Elahrair-Rah agreed, “I ask only that you keep your word.” 

“It is done.” I said, quick to make a pact with the Rabbit Prince so that I didn’t miss my chance at the tournament. 

“Grand.” Elahrair-Rah concluded, “But do not think I will send you into battle without proper provisioning.” 

The Prince of Rabbits bowed his head, and the astral collar was shaken from his neck. It shone on the ground, making its blue lights on the white powder. The moon no longer shone, and one could not see the stars in the sky, only these that circled the ground. 

“The path ahead may be obscured.” He said, “I leave you what was left to me when I had to make a journey longer than I thought possible. My cause was noble, thus I found victory. You must do the same.” 

“Thank you.” I said. 

I probably should’ve bowed to the Prince of Rabbits, but I was struck by his stars. They would not make a collar for me, but I was able to wrap them over my neck and shoulders as some kind of shining sash and carry them that way. They weighed nothing, but felt cool like falling snow. By the time I had adjusted to carrying it, the Rabbit Prince was bounding away. I watched him lope off into the shadows, until he went so far as to be unseen. The light from his star-dusted ears could only cover so much ground. 

The light from the Astral collar was all the light left in the world. I carried on with it, sure now that there would be no further obstructions while I journeyed to the kingdom of Frith. There wasn’t very far to go, neither was there much to see. After the landscapes I’d come through, the empty path to Frith suited me just fine. It seemed that in destroying Leslie’s creation, Elahrair-Rah had also laid waste to the surrounding area. Nothing would grow in these desolate fields for years to come. He had sacrificed a kingdom, and in these times it seemed a rather reasonable price. There weren’t enough people in the world to tend the crops, who cared if the ground was barren? 

I did miss the light though. Even with an ominous red sky, or auspicious white the blue shafts of moonlight managed to make shapes out of the shadows. The moon had been covered over with dark curtains, and I carried the last of the light in the astral collar. 

I left a trail behind, for the stars were like powdered sugar. The slightest jostle and they spouted little puffs of stardust which clung to whatever was nearest and made that glow, albeit less brightly then the collective source. My feet became coated in stardust and I left a trail that even the most inexperienced of trackers could’ve easily followed me. 

There were levels to it, the darkness. The world still came in different shades, some things were just deeper than others. The castle loomed ahead, the darkest of all. Scholars spoke of places beyond this, somewhere amongst the stars where exploding things created voids that sucked in everything nearby and swallowed it up, never to be seen again. I thought the castle on the hill very much like that, a void. 

Avoid. Something I could not afford to do. 

There was a horrible stillness in the air too. Not a sound beyond my footsteps, which were largely silent due to the ash coating on the ground. It blanketed my toes, a light crunch if that, but nothing else. There was no running water, nothing for the wind to shift into making noise. I should’ve been used to it by now; much of the world had gone still and dead. 

That was the worst of it, the deadliest ingredient in the noxious poisoned they labeled loneliness. The world was not supposed to be a soundless place. I’d surely done my share of noise making, and I had shouted at those who made too much noise, but some was always better than none. The singing skulls from the fairy circle, Leslie’s whispering, the clatter of Moto Maji’s beetles- any and all would’ve been welcome in this desolate valley. 

I wished for sound but it did not come. My mind began to do crazy things, began to doubt that there had ever been noises to begin with. If there was no one in the world to converse with, would I loose the ability to speak? 

Perhaps I would get lucky and find another crow to caw too. I scanned the black sky for black feathers, but of course there were none. None that could be seen anyway, how was a person to tell for certain if there was not a dagger wrapped in black satin hidden behind the coal dust clouds. Anything might’ve been concealed, and I none the wiser. 

I was not the only light of the world for it was spoken that Alfred rode a great stag more luminous then I. It became part of my duty to take that stag from him, and if it could not be apprehended I must kill it. Alfred had pinned a god to the moon and stolen the life of the purest cleric in ages. If I got my way he’d never see so much as a lit candle. He’d stolen enough light for this lifetime. 

I still held out hope that the sword would work again. I took it from my back and tried to call to it, strained to hear the songs and prayers and voices that emanated from the holy blade. He liked to sing, was in the choir and everything. Often the blade would be singing in the measured respectful manner required for hymnals. 

It was still silent today. 

“Where have you run off to, church boy?” I asked. 

My voice didn’t echo as I’d half-expected it too. It came out flat and dry, and hardly audible. If Kohso had been here and standing next to me, I don’t think he would’ve been able to hear. It made no difference, the sword was in the habit of speaking from him through the ancient metal to me, but I had yet to turn things the other way around. 

There was no way for the living to speak to the dead. 

I’d always told myself that was for the best. I didn’t want it to become obsession, to sit and talk into the shifting lights wishing I could restore the lost. People used to get sick from wishes. They lined the stools of taverns, taking self-prescribed dosages of ale and whiskey. They wished for better wives, kinder husbands, different jobs, a chance to start again, and that was all well and good. I could not fault them wishing for a different life than the one they’d been handed. I’d wished such things before. 

It was when it became all they did that it was dangerous. Poorly chosen passionless couples remained together, unspeaking but gradually more and more agitated. New employment lusted after, but they never turned to the learning of new skills to better their chances. Always it was the addiction to wishes, for they came without the stipulations of reality. 

It was better that I could not speak to the sword; but better still when it spoke to me. I missed him. 

I missed her. 

This first task seemed to be taking too long, and I was too far to see her sky. I didn’t know if the moon had disappeared from her window, if her sky bubbled with unspoken thunder and invisible lighting as mine did. I knew the storm was there, even if I were deaf and blind too it. It had to be. These kind of clouds didn’t loom without reason. 

Frigga may not have been fond of bugs, but storms she didn’t mind. She was as fearless in thunder and rain as ever, going out to dance in the puddles like a child. Her lilting laughter would mingle with the music of falling rain drops and become my favorite sonata. She would’ve been excited for this storm. 

I hoped she was strong enough to sit at the window and watch it. They said the white blindness was want to make people bedridden. She didn’t belong in a sickbed. He didn’t belong underground. I didn’t belong in the kingdom of Frith, but it’s funny how that’s where we ended up. Everyone jumbled and misplaced. Why was it up to me to put things back in the right order? 

There surely were more capable people, somewhere in the world. Or there had been. With the white blindness it was hard to say how many were left with sound minds. I hadn’t met anyone in their right way since leaving Yharnam, and I didn’t expect too. 

I carried on, making all attempts not to lament my situation, not to linger on the solitude. Trying not think about something is as bad as actually thinking about it. It accomplished nothing, only amplifying my frustration. I had to find a way to quell it, lest I march into the tournament with a clouded head. I was only going to get one chance at this. Weather a herald read it off from the rules or it was left unspoken, Alfred and I both already knew this was going to be a fight to the death. 

No more walking on eggshells, I had dropped from the nest and taken off on my own. I was to return with a victory or not at all. 

When the ground began to tilt I started to hear drums. They were distant but distinct, and could not be blamed on any sort of natural phenomena. It was strange, but I didn’t care. Anything to stop the thoughts and break the silence. If drums was what Frith wanted to give me, then I would take it. 

They got louder as the incline grew steeper. The path changed from dirt and grass to stone pebbles. Now there was a more deliberate walkway, which I presumed would lead directly to the castle. I caught glimpses of strange things as I went along. They reminded me of the children from earlier, the ones with the animal masks- but they lacked the same life. 

These things did not fidget, and each was exactly like the one previous. They were about child size, granted. I don’t think they would’ve come past my waist if I’d stopped to measure the difference. All were dressed in cloth bird masks, that looked to be fashioned from burlap feed sacks. Their clothes were made from red-brown roots and hay, giving them the appearance of stiff fur. Each of the little sparrows had a drum and beat it in perfect rhythm with the others. 

The drums were the most unique thing about the little sparrows. There were two of each variety, one to the left and one to the right. They lined the pebble path and continued their mechanical music while I passed by. The little sparrows looked straight ahead up until the moment I had left them behind, that was when the masks heads would turn as one and remain looking down towards the castle for as long as I was aware. 

I tried not to think on the matter too much. There was so much else to consider, that the strange things had to be set aside and treated as normal. So far the things wearing masks had been far kinder to me than those which showed their faces. I too had a mask to wear, perhaps it was a matter of mutual trust. The sparrows made no attempt to stop me, perhaps they thought a crow superior, but I imagined it was common process for a tournament. 

At last I was gazing up at the darkened walls of the castle. The banners embroidered with the triple sun symbol of Frith now seemed an irony, and they draped from the ramparts in such quantities to seem like decent fare for a practical joke, something with a punchline regarding where the sun don’t shine. Cato would’ve been able to think of a good one. 

I let the joke fall flat and unspoken. 

The sparrows, soundless had followed behind me, changing their formation from columns along either side of the road to row upon row behind me, like a band. None of them felt threatening, despite how vastly the little sparrows outnumbered me. Their drumming did not cease, not even as I took my first steps under the iron portcullis and entered the castle of Frith. 

It seemed to have been anticipating my arrival, for I felt strangely welcomed in the stone walls. There was no reason for it, no food lovingly prepared or crackling fire. I wasn’t greeted with ringing bells, or trumpet or rings of flowers. 

It must’ve just been the sensation of being indoors again. The glow of the stars bounced around the arches and hallways quite nicely, as well as any torch might’ve. Inside it was possible to forget the darkened sky and the raging world beyond. Frith remained haven somehow, despite the state of things. 

The moment I realized this I was on the alert again. Everything that had seemed peaceful since I took on the mantle of the crow had turned out to be full of secrets. I tread more carefully down the halls, avoiding the lush carpeting lest there be traps underneath. I would not be tripped up by fairy circles once more. 

The little sparrows did not follow me when I left the main hallway. Their rows upon rows could not easily fit down the narrower corridors. None of them would leave the rest of the flock behind, but they didn’t squawk at me or change the drums. There was no indication that I was going the wrong way, they simply just did not wish to follow. 

It was an extensive castle, big enough that I could get lost if I strayed too far from the sound of the drums. I kept myself from going up the spiral staircases and exploring any cellars or suspicious rooms. There was still a job to do, a man to slay. 

Beyond the sparrows I found the castle quite deserted. I was slightly disappointed by this, for I’d held onto the small hope I might catch Alfred sleeping and end the tournament before it began. I might’ve known that luck would not walk the side of an assassin. There was no Alfred just as there was no king or queen or maids or butlers. 

I didn’t know what I had been looking for in the castle, and whatever it is I didn’t find it. The longer I stayed inside, the safer I felt. Suspicion was quick to fade once the traps were stayed and nothing sprang up at me or yelled or sang. 

“Alright.” I said, when I returned to the squadron of little sparrows beating their drums in the main hall. “I’m ready now.” 

Their drumming came to a dead stop as each little sparrow lifted their drum stick and pointed me towards the end of the hall. That was where the thrones loomed. 

Something in me wanted to reject them immediately. I felt an unwelcome familiarity with thrones, as though I had occupied one once. That must’ve been from before I was Fwahe, thus all was foggy and unclear. It wasn’t hard to believe that if I had once been a lord of Cainhurst it was a bad way to be in. The stories told of them were no pretty tales, but more of gothic ghost stories scrawled over with blood and dismay. 

They would doubtless be unpleasant things. 

Sometimes I thought Alfred might’ve known me. He made claims of being at the Massacre, and though I doubted nearly every word that leaked past the traitor’s lips, I could place him in a brawl like that quite easily. The ages and times were harder to place together. I’d forgotten my birthday, my birth year and lived with only the vaguest notion of how long it had been that I lived. 

At least I could share in this plight with the others who partook in blood ministrations. Those that had partaken anyway, or those that had touch of woodland elf or north shore nymph in their blood. We aged a little differently and a lot slower than those without, extending youth beyond reasonable limitation. 

Had he known me? 

Worse even, had I known him? 

There were too many things to worry about. I approached the thrones and saw that it wasn’t the elaborate chairs the little sparrows had been indicating but the door beyond them. It had the same sun sigil carved into it as was displayed on the banners. Another joke I didn’t make. 

I half-expected the knob of the door to mutate into something with jaws and bite at me when I reached out to turn it, but metal remained metal. I opened it easily, and found it led into a rather large courtyard. The tourney ground seemed to have been constructed at the same time as the castle, or else this was some sort of sorcerer’s door into it. I thought the second guess the more likely explanation, as the field of battle seemed just a little too impractical to fit behind a throne. 

Little sparrows just like the party that had sounded my entrance lined the wooden bench seats to either side of a sand-filled oval. Spectators who would cheer as mechanically as they drummed, I had no doubt. It was an odd arena, but this was what I had come for. There was no turning back now. The banners billowed and curled, even with no wind to move them. A leaping black rabbit with red eyes seemed to move across the crimson field as they swayed. I saw a group of twenty sparrows turn in unison to look at the largest of the rabbit banners. 

“Zorn.” They remarked to each other. One half nodded, then the other, each bob of the head perfectly matched or counteracted like clockwork. 

Once that section of sparrows had run through the motions, another took it up. 

“Zorn.” They said. 

“Zorn.” They replied. 

Nonsense of course, but I thought it was nice to have the noise. The little drummers behind me stopped playing when they entered the arena. They placed their drums down in piles, on either side of the entryway. There was already a massive collection of pipes and mouth instruments stacked up next to the wall. I wasn’t the only one who had been heralded. 

I had expected other banners, other competitors. I didn’t see any shields or standard-bearers to indicate the other contestants. There was no one but me, the sparrows and the golden-haired man holding the reigns of a glowing stag at the other end of the field. A sparrow holding a fife stood a half pace behind him. I turned round and saw that one with a little drum stood behind me. Two black woven straps secured it over the little sparrow’s shoulders so that it hung in front ready for the playing. Neither of them were making music. 

Alfred cut the more traditional tournament character of the two of us. He was something pulled off a tapestry, in gleaming white-gold armor and shimmering golden cape. His gloved hands rested gently on the reigns of his ethereal mount who was bedecked with ivory and sunflower ribbons and tack. He was surrounding himself and light and pretty things, but beyond the metal plates and pale skin was black heart. 

My feathers might have been as dark as they sky above. The helmet I wore was bone, yellowed and craggy carrying all the dents and scrapes of my journey and the journeys before. My feet were dark, sullied with the dust from the path I’d walked to get here, but there was a righteous cause beneath it all. The astral collar and the blessings of the Rabbit Prince were things Alfred did not have. 

He made the first move, handing the reigns of his stag to the sparrow and making a show of unbuckling the sword at his hip and tossing it to the ground. A cloud of dust puffed around it. He began to step towards me. It was likely ettiqute for me to do the same. The extent of my politeness was that I hadn’t thrown my knives the moment he’d put his guard down. I would not be disarming myself and meeting in the middle. If we were here to count costs then he would have to come forth and face the accountant head on. 

“Zorn.” The sparrows began to babble to one another. “Zorn zorn zorn.” 

Neither mine nor Alfred’s sparrows spoke, but the man himself did. 

“They tell me you have been following me, Flightless Crow.” He ventured. 

“And I’ve heard it said you’re responsible for pinning a god to the moon.” 

Alfred laughed, “I do not deny it.” 

He was affable, proud even to lay claim to the crime. The infamous spear-thrower. The treacherous fiend. The child-killer. He was in the middle of the tourney grounds now, but did not trespass further. 

“Good.” I said. My fingers locked around the hilt of the holy blade. I took it from my back and held it out towards him. This was not a conversation. “And while your confessing how about you admit to killing an innocent cleric, beyond that an innocent boy?” 

Alfred’s head swung into a confused tilt. “You knew Kohso?” 

“Confess.” I commanded. 

“I assure you I took no joy in it, but it had to be done.” Alfred said, “He was infected, liable to poison us all with-“ 

“Confess.” I said again, taking my first step onto the field of battle. I heard the leather of his glove squeak. A nervous hand was twitching, and mine wore no gloves. 

“It wasn’t as though I-“ 

“Confess.” I growled, furthering my advance. 

“Is that why you’ve come all this way to kill me, because of what you think I did to Kohso?” He asked. There was that horrid lilt of laughter in his voice. Did he think this a joke? 

“I came for what I know you’ve done to Kohso.” I replied. 

There wasn’t much ground left to tread now. Our little sparrows did not advance with us, but stayed back. Nobody wanted to get involved. 

“All this time I thought the Flightless Crow was something to be feared. I thought you were some noble scion, or fearsome priestess come to smite me for pinning a god to the moon. I was worried that I had the wrath of the gods to contend with, but now I see you are none of those, and not worth the terror.” Alfred said. 

I was done with talking. 

The sword might not be glowing and full of life, but it was still sharp. That was all it needed to be. I brought it down in an overhand swing, going for his chest. Going for his heart. 

He caught the edge of my sword on his bracer. The thin blade got caught in the wire filigree and he was able to deflect the attack without breaking a sweat. 

“Temper, temper.” Alfred scolded. He put a gloved hand to his lips and whispered, as one does when telling secrets, “You don’t want them to catch you cheating.” 

He jerked his head towards the stands. All of the little sparrows were still yammering “zorn” to each other. I looked at them closer then I had before and made note of one crucial detail that had slipped past me on the way in. The sparrows in the stands weren’t holding instruments anymore, but their hands were still full. Each of them held a knife and fork, had tied a check-cloth napkin around their necks. The cloths were either black and grey or white and gold. I had a feeling I knew what had happened to the other participants in the tournament now. 

I pulled my sword out of the metal work and back to my side. 

“Fine.” I spat, “Let us do this properly, traitor.” 

Alfred made several circular flourishes with his wrist before bending over into an elegant bow. “As you wish.” 

I returned to my side of the field, and he to his. I had to wait while he climbed into the saddle of the glorious stag. I pressed the tip of my thumb into the spiked piece of bone on the grip of my sword, smearing silver blood up and down the blade. 

“Please.” I muttered, “I need you to work.” 

I shut my eyes tight and tried to remember one of Kohso’s prayers. They were always long, full of rhymes and fancy words. I’d heard him mutter them over meals or before bed plenty of times, but there was a difference between hearing and listening. I don’t think I’d ever really taken in the significance of the words. I never thought they would be important. 

“Gods damnit Kohso, come on!” I said. 

For some reason I thought that would change things, bring a brighter glow and rouse my spirits. I wanted it beyond measure, needed every advantage I could possibly gain over Alfred and his cosmic stag. I wanted change and a brighter world, revenge and the sinner’s soul. Plenty of worthy wishes, but when I opened my eyes they were all for naught. 

The sword did not glow. Never had it looked so old and pathetic in my hands. The grip was stained with sweat. There were chips in the ancient metal that even the most talented of smiths would not be able to fix fully. The center run was still crusted with blood, I should’ve cleaned it better- there just hadn’t been time. All of the cloth wrappings which used to be blinding white were dulled with age, sun damage and speckled with old fluids. 

A glorious weapon it wasn’t, but I trusted it. It might have been old and worn, but it had yet to falter. The sword had never broken under the blow of another. I had split blades, smashed spears and cut maces down to size. No one had ever come close to damaging my sword, but this was a different world and a different day. Nothing was for certain here. 

Alfred had come well prepared for this battle. His mount was weighed down with greatsword and lance. The deer itself was a weapon, its antlers fitted with golden barbs. The traitor had taken up a wheel in his hands, the classic weapon of his order. This one appeared to have been made especially for tournament. The wooden wheel was constructed from paler stock then typically seen, birch perhaps though I was no craftsman and could not be certain. It had gold fittings and ivory ribbons trailed from its spokes. They wouldn’t stay that color for long. I intended to paint them red. 

Still, if there was any weapon to cause fear it was the Logarius Wheel. I’d seen it break bones and pound people to a pulp. He’d had the decency not to kill Kohso with it. I hadn’t had to watch the naive young cleric be smashed, seen him scooped off the ground to be buried- but that is what happened to so many others. I could not remember their faces, but I knew most of my voracious bloodline had been curbed under the grind of an Executioner’s wheel. 

They had brought an entire race to their knees. No one had thought much of the zealot’s order before that day, that infamous day when they’d raided the mountains and toppled the thrones of the Lords of Cainhurst. Before that they’d just been something laughed at, some hobby of a violent passion and enthusiastic followers. I wasn’t sure that they had a name before that day, but after it everyone knew of the Executioners- the Vileblood hunters. 

That was my memory. 

But it wasn’t my memory. 

I heard a sound that was sharp, like the snapping of fingers. 

_“Dispose of this man.”_

I wanted to check behind me, and see if some onlooker had given the command but the voice that had spoken was somehow my own. It belonged to me, and belonged to no one at the same time. Worst of all it belonged in the sword, which was now glowing but the colors was wrong. Instead of the blues and greens of the holy cosmos this was a churning mixture of soot and red soup. Clotted clouds like purple bruises replaced the oscillating galaxy and sprinkle of stars. 

The blade was holy no longer. This was something fully from the other side, a demon’s blade to slay a demon. It was corrupted, but I wasn’t picky. So long as it cut Alfred down I would use it to my advantage, and should the sword prove useless then there were ever the blades of mercy to call upon; though no mercy would be shown to the cleric-killer this night. 

Alfred adjusted his position in the saddle, firmly fitting his boots in the stirrups. It would be hard to knock him off the stag, metal fitting into metal like a sword in its sheath. They seemed to trust each other, the comic stag and he. That made it all the worse for me. 

We were both ready to begin, now there was only the need to give signal. That’s what the remaining sparrows were for. They nodded to each other. Mine raised his drumstick, the other brought the fife to his beak. Nothing about a drum and fife meshed together particularly well, but like a gun shot or trumpet blast all that needed was a siren of the start. 

The stag’s hooves made no noise and threw up no clouds of dust when it charged. It bent its head like a charging boar, leveling all of the golden barbs at me, because spiked antlers weren’t enough. The deer alone were challenge, but there was Alfred atop it, spinning his wheel from hand to hand, switching the side it lay against so that I wouldn’t be able to mark where the blows would land. 

I was not going to just stand there and take the blows, I kept to action, making my choice to strike at Alfred’s left. He favored the right, if nothing else I could be sure of a weaker strike if I kept to this path. He had other plans, pulling sharply on the reigns and turning the creature sideways, blocking any of my advances. I didn’t have time to adjust my course before Alfred pulled the animal into a sharp turn, locking me in a circle of perpetual motion. The cosmic deer bounded around me and I could not find a space to roll between it’s glowing feet and escape the wheel. It swirled over his head several times before he brought it down at my skull. 

I stopped shifting for escape, pushing my feet into the earth and catching the crushing weight of his weapon on the flat of mine. A ripple coursed through the red light, and the blade let out a shriek. For once I was not the only one to hear sounds from the sword. The cosmic deer snorted, his liquid eyes widening in terror. I could see the red insides of his nostrils as they flipped open and closed in fear. As scared as it was, the stag did not alter course but kept to where it was directed, spinning the circle ever smaller. It had started out in six bounds but now the deer was down to just four, one to either side of me, hooves touching down before and behind. 

In another blur of motion Alfred sent the wheel down. I didn’t brace this one as well, feeling the shock of it all the way down in my toes. There was no time to recover. The red ripples had yet to fade from the edge of my sword before the wheel came down again, twice in rapid succession. I needed to break free of this trap. 

I let my own shrieks join with the sword, throwing blade and body against Alfred’s mount. I expected to catch it in the side but my timing was better then I’d bargained for. I slipped right past and was on freer ground now. 

Alfred clicked his heels against the stag’s sides and bade it chase me down. 

It was time to see if the blade worked as I’d remembered it used too. It had already been coated in blood, but I gave it more, no need to be stingy with the silver now. I let another fingers blood run down the blade, back and forth as Alfred adjusted his stag’s course. He had not yet switched from wheel to other weapons, not yet felt the call of the sword or the lance. This was good. Surely a thing so cumbersome as a Logarius Wheel would wear him out faster. 

I locked my bleeding fingers around the grip and swung it full force. I hope for a sliver of light, as there had used to be. This sword was nothing like the old one. When I brought it around in shining arc it unleashed a screaming phantom. A spectral skull the color of blood, with weeping red mists spilling from its mouth shot out of the blade. 

It sped right for Alfred and the stag. There was a sudden rigid tension in the creature’s legs that wanted to fix themselves and not come any closer. It was sweet, sweet hesitation and the only advantage I needed before springing back into the fray. Alfred was more focused on calming the stag then me. I came alongside him and struck. 

He threw up his arm and the edge of my sword bounced off his bracer, just as expected. With one arms stretched above his head and the other weighed down on the wrong side by his wheel. I let one hand support the full weight of the soulless sword, entrusting my right hand with the more complicated maneuvers. My fingers found the handle of one of my blades of mercy and I threw it up at Alfred’s ribs. 

Satisfaction was sweet, coming in the form of teeth gnashed in pain and the all important point of first blood marked down in my favor. There was no time for celebration. The cosmic stag’s head swung around, catching me in the side and piercing my side. It stung like fire, and some of the golden barbed covers slipped off the stag’s prongs they were so deeply imbedded in my flesh. I took a few steps backwards, time enough for Alfred to regain his strength and bring the wheel swinging down at me. I loosed another one of the howling demon-skulls, just in time to catch the force of the wheel. The spectral apparition was smashed to pieces, red tendrils of light spiraling off in all directions. 

I locked my fingers around one of the more stubborn barbs, imbedded in my shoulder and pulled it free. There was a rush of pain and a burst of silver blood. I swallowed down all sounds of weakness and threw the spiked metal to the ground. While Alfred came around to charge at me again I dipped my fingers into the fast-flowing quicksilver and fed the hungry sword once more. 

I was going to have to fell this stag, else face defeat. 

I unleashed another shrieking phantom, immediately loosing a second in its wake. The first one was caught on the barbed horns and did nothing but further frighten the cosmic stag, the second however, passed its lowered head and smashed against Alfred’s chest. His plate armor absorbed most of the damage, but exposed places on his face and between links in his chain mail went red as though from a slap. Alfred grimaced. 

I dipped my fingers into my bleeding shoulder for more. I was getting used to the red light and knew what it needed. It was hungry, whatever now spoke in my sword, hungrier then Kohso’s spirit had ever been. With the cleric blessing my blade I could send off several bolts of light without needing to bleed again, bolts in the dozens. With this curse however, it needed new blood after every second shot. 

Until I could knock him from the deer it would be worth it to have the screaming skulls on my side. I gave it more and watched the silver substance seep through pores in the metal, pores I’d never known the sword to have before. It was changing, and I’d no time to care if it were for the better or worse. 

The little sparrows in the audience reacted as mechanically as ever. They would raise cries of the strange word whenever one of us got hit, and cheered with the same according to the color of their checkered neckerchiefs. There was no booing or condemnation, which almost seemed to spoil the spirit of a tournament. There were bigger things to focus on then an audience, and Alfred didn’t seem at all distracted by the little sparrows but they bothered me. I could not fully find a way to ignore them. 

Recovered from blows they advanced. I readied my blade to meet with the stag’s antlers. He would not catch me in the side again. 

I’d guessed wrong, for Alfred had decided to launch a different attack. The cosmic deer stood up on back legs like a war-horse and brought the twin pistons of its front legs down on my shoulders. Hooves like hammers pushed me down into the dirt. I swore I could hear my own bones breaking as my mouth filled with dirt. 

I lost my grip on the blade somewhere between standing and sinking. 

_“Useless.”_

It’s words, and somehow my words in my head. 

The cosmic deer stood on top of me, bringing Alfred and his weapons weight down to task. I felt my sides want to split, every inch of me suddenly susceptible to cracking. Was I so weak as to fall apart? 

There was reckoning to be had. I forced my flesh to stay together. A crow could not let itself be pinned to the ground. I dug my palms into the dirt and forced my body to rise. The cosmic stag could not keep balance on shifting ground, once I began to move it withdrew and I found my feet. 

My left arm wasn’t working. I tried to close the fingers, move the wist, bend at the elbow but all was limp and locked. I hurried to pick up my fallen sword while Alfreds wheel whirled above me. I had not gathered myself in time to deflect it. The wheel crashed down on my back. My knees buckled and I fell once more, right hand gripping useless dirt. When I tried to breathe I tasted blood, something inside of me was broken. 

How foolish I had been. 

Really, how foolish this all was, to think that I could stand in bones and feathers and win out against all the weapons of the realm. Did I really think the Rabbit Prince’s blessing was enough to fortify against the man who had pinned the god to the moon? All for the sake of a quarrel, for a boy, for a body under flowers. 

I crawled on shaking knees to the hilt of the sword. The red glow had faded, and when I took it in my warbling hands, it did not return. Even the corrupt had abandoned the clipped crow. 

If only Alfred were the type to swell with pride, and take a moment to gloat over his victory, then I might have been able to turn the tides. I had cut down so many prideful men, but Alfred put his duty before his boasts. The point of my sword dragged the ground as I struggled to stand. He was on me before I could rise, another slam of the wheel caught me in the side. My ribs shook, threatening to fall like so many stalactites in the caves of the serpent king. I couldn’t reach for my knives, not without dropping the sword. I tried to gain a grip on the bone hilt, but my fingers wouldn’t reach. They kept slipping, fumbling for weight they couldn’t hope to hold. 

But I had to do something. If I was going to die on the fields of Frith a failure, gods damnit my blood would not be the only one to stain the earth. 

I could hardly manage to lift the sword. I wasn’t going to be able to fight with it now. It would have to be by the knives, but before I discarded the holy vessel it would get one last hit in. I flung it as hard as I could at the advancing enemy. 

There was a scream unlike any I’d ever heard. The ground shook and the little sparrows stopped saying “zorn.” Line by line they fell over, and smashed like porcelain where they hit the ground. Shattered ceramic organs oozed sand and salt blood over blankets of red-reed coats. Their metal utensils lay beside their broken bodies, devoid of purpose. 

The sword had pieced the side of the cosmic deer, and its blood poured out as luminous as the creature itself. It bled in pale blue galaxies, as cold as deep winter blizzards. Finding its legs suddenly thinner then they’d once been the stag quivered then fell to the ground. Alfred’s shoes were so well-fitted to the stirrups that he did not have time to free himself before falling, and came down heavily with it. 

The Logarius Wheel was flung from his hands, spiraling off to crash against the wall. It hit with a sharp crack and an explosion of wooden shrapnel that doused the tourney grounds in sharp splinters. There were a few larger pieces where one could see the curved shape of the weapon maintained, but everything else was sawdust. 

That was not to make it seem as though Alfred had run out of weapons. He worked to free himself from the struggling stag while also losing a shorts sword strapped to the animals side. He was tangled up in the creature, looking like nothing so much as an ant turned on its back flailing to be upright again. 

I was on the attack before he’d managed to fully free himself. Alfred was half stood with one leg still clinging to the vestiges of the stag’s saddle. It didn’t seem as though he was able to move it very well. He was down a leg and I down an arm, but we carried on. There was no moment of respite in the tournament of the Black Rabbit. 

The stag’s frantic screams still shook the air. I was lucky to not have been a porcelain contraption like the sparrows. When it opened its mouth to unleash yet more cries, it was like the voids they spoke of in the stars. Everything had collapsed into its pained cries, and Alfred’s mount wanted to drag me into the tragic depths as well. 

The closer I got the more treacherous the path became. The animal may have been felled but its legs still thrashed ready to wound me again. Alfred’s motions were just as frantic. I could easily be cut down by the slash of his frantic sword or pushed aside by his other extremities, so bedecked in plate armor that they became weapons themselves. Heavy as a club and able to wound just as well, there was no part of that man not built for attack this day. 

I carefully crept around the deer, one knife in my working hand, one knife to stay his sword. I had won on worse terms then this, but I was still none too fond of my odds. The stag’s screams were wearing on me. There was only so much one could take. 

I had wanted to preserve its life if possible, but it seemed that desperate days made butchers of us all. 

“Shall I silence it for you?” I asked 

“Stay your hand!” Alfred growled. 

My insult triggered the unforeseen. He finally freed his foot, and laying a hand against the struggling stag’s flank, he vaulted over it to meet my advance. I could see exhaustion in the set of his eyes, but he swung his sword without a sign of failing strength. 

I raised my knife and stopped it, letting the blades grate and spark against one another. 

“You’d protect your mount over your trusting junior?” I snarled. 

“He was infected!” Alfred shouted. 

His rage wound be his undoing. I dropped my blade and rolled between his legs, coming up behind him. I didn’t waste time getting my bearings, not when I was so near the stag’s flailing hooves. I leapt on his back, bearing down with all my weight while I locked my arm around his neck, forcing the air from his lungs. 

I’d hoped I would be able to press this advantage for a good while, but he only managed a step or two before there was a sickening crack. In the moment it was even louder than the cosmic stag’s screaming. Alfred crumpled beneath me, a contortion of pain, metal and twisted flesh. If I’d had any doubts about his leg being broken, there was no doubting it now. 

I was flung from his shoulders, unable to keep my hold. In a tumble of black feathers I rolled across the tourney grounds, taking the brunt of the blow on my left shoulder. I looked up to find Alfred clutching his leg, furiously working to unbuckle the metal braces and catches that held the armored shoe to his ailing leg. 

When his fumbling fingers had finally freed it, casting the metal casing aside. There were fountains of red leaking through the chain mail. There was a lot of it, fast flowing. He held himself together with one hand, sword in the other. He spun the blade, but for show or intimidation I could not say. Either way it didn’t work on me. No amount of flashy sword play could make up for his limping gait. 

I wished I could say I were in better condition, but after the fall I seemed to be having quite the time rising again. My limbs were stiff, everything seized by lingering pain from the barbs. I was bleeding just as much as Alfred. 

He gritted his teeth and brought his sword down in a cutting swing, going for my neck. I took a step back. The blade caught air and nothing more. While his arm was lowered I surged forward, going for his neck. 

The bastard caught my knife in his bracer and flung it away. I turned to sprint after it. Being unarmed in this place was as good as a death sentence. The tip of his sword caught me as I bounded away, skidding down the mat of black feathers and only managing to cut through in time to reach my leg. It didn’t do much more then scrape the skin, but that was more blood to loose. The dirt was turning to mud as we worked to kill each other. 

I was able to regain my weapons before he had taken three steps. I could trace his efforts exactly. Alfred’s limp foot left a deep trench in the earth, building up a bigger obstacle with every movement he made. Would that the ground could turn to quicksand and consume him. 

The cosmic stag had stopped screaming. 

The cosmic stag had stopped moving. 

Alfred and I could’ve had a contest in killing innocents, and gods besides. At least I had excuses. Everything I’d slain had tried to slay me first, that or begged for death like the old man in the road. He was the last shred of humanity I could remember, beyond the sweet embrace of my dying beloved. 

Dying, who was I kidding? 

The whole world was poison. She was dead. To be stuck in this castle with the cleric-killer, the child-murderer as the last life in this corrupted world was divine irony. Some great cosmic thing getting its last laugh before confining itself to the prisons of oblivion to gloat with the eternal jailer. 

I had more grounds on which to slay him, then he me. Knife in hand I went at him again, coming to claim my prey directly. We fought face to face, but he was no easy opponent. Alfred made up for his rooted stance with quick parries and greater reach. If I got to close I met with the edge of his sword. It sliced my forearms and spilled more silver. 

I’d never seen such a multiplicity of shades of my own blood before. It shone uniquely on every surface, from the deepest, almost iron glistening over my feathers to the stagnant sludge half gone-green where it mingled with the dirt. 

Alfred’s armor kept most of my strikes from going through. I got a slash in across his jaw, but that wouldn’t do much to disable him. Rivers spilled from my arms and the most I could do was provide paper cuts. 

Another stroke of the sword came down while my knife was stuck in the infernal twisting wires of his elaborate breastplate. My feathered cape had been cut to shreds. The tip of his sword traveled down my side, bumping over every rib and splitting me open like a doll. 

In a screech I let go of my knife, hand to my side to stay the sting. Strange that that was the instinct, to grip the things which pain us in an attempt to quell them. I wasn’t able to spring away as quickly as I’d hoped, but even slow maneuvers were faster than Alfred’s heavy footfalls. 

The world had begun to blur. 

I didn’t really know if I was standing or lying down anymore, with black sky against black stone. All I knew to do was to stay away from the light, from the man who wanted to kill me. Was that truly so hard all of a sudden? 

_“Useless.”_

The voice came again, mine but not. The same but different, a mirror image. 

_“On your feet.”_

I could not recall a time when I had scraped and bowed, taken orders from anyone. This was different, this was like a spell, the enchantment laced itself into my muscles, took control. I moved to rise following actions that were mine but not made by me. It was an impossibility of paradox, to be moving yourself and stationary; to be both puppet and puppeteer at once. 

Had someone cut my strings or had someone strung me up? 

I wanted to blame it on instinct, comfort myself in saying that in the heat of battle I just moved as a direct reaction to my situation, but that was not this. I had been driven by senseless adrenalin before, I knew how that felt. This was something entirely different. 

_“Move!”_

My legs did as told, flinging up clouds of dust as they sped across the shifting ground. For a moment I was sure I would fall, feet so thoroughly coated in blood they made everything slippery. It was like wearing the worst pair of socks in the world; sticky and ill-fitting, adhering to every little bit of dust and dirt on the sandy tourney ground. I hated socks of the best of time. Socks of blood made me want to tear my own flesh from the bone. 

Alfred lumbered after me. I could hear his heavy foot falls and the scraping of the dead leg as he followed. A backwards glance showed that he bore down on the sword, using it as crutch and weapon alike. 

The sword lay on the ground, normal as ever. It was just old iron and cloth wrappings, nothing impressive. I used to approach it with such confidence, knowing it would glow for me. Now I wasn’t sure what to think. Was it to be red this time? Would the green bolts of light issue forth, or was it to be the screaming skeletons? 

_“Pick it up.”_

I followed her commands exactly, and was astonished to find that both my hands were now closed around the rigid bone handle. I hadn’t felt my left arm move and after a brief moment of contemplation found the skill was still lacking. The dead arm had risen of its own accord to take the champion and director’s position above my right. 

I’d never taken this stance when fighting before, letting the left side lead. I fell into it as naturally as anything, reinvigorated with newfound strength. To coat the sword in blood was now an easy matter, for my own blood was in no short supply. I rested the blade against my and it drank its fill. 

There was no need to close my eyes and will it to work. I didn’t have to think of the cleric under the flowers, or try and recall his prayers. The second my hands returned to lock firmly around the bone hilt, a flash of scarlet overtook the stained metal and the corrupted correspondence began anew. 

_“Advance.”_ Came the command. 

Alfred’s limping seemed to have improved. He was learning to manage the failing leg now that he had the sword to lean on, but it would not serve when I worked to cut him down. With a slash I sent one of the spectrals to herald my approach. 

He tried to duck and avoid the phantom, but could not drop low enough. There was no time to raise a sword. Alfred carried no shield, the best he could do was raise his bracer and hope for the best. I saw the skulls teeth come down on the metalwork. The wires that had trapped my blades so many time, split and shattered. Its teeth clamped down right through the chain mail, until he frantically swiped his sword crossways through the cursed apparition. 

I sent another one immediately after, but he cut through it before any damage was done. These things were susceptible to blades, despite their apparent appetite for plate armor. 

“What foul thing have you tethered to that blade?” Alfred asked. 

Even if I had an answer for him, I would’ve kept it to myself. 

I was close enough to strike at him, and strike I did, with a form and style that was at once both foreign and familiar. I treated the blade as nimble saber and tried to strike for Alfred’s chest with it, despite the plate metal. 

He was unphased by the tactical change and deflected the blow easily. 

_“Bring him to his knees”_

The command was more easily given then carried out. What did it think of me, this voice, to suggest something so obvious. 

“I’m trying!” I shouted. 

I watched questions form in the cocked arch of Alfred’s eyebrow as it raised, but he was not given opportunity to loose words. I swung around for another strike. Instinctively Alfred raised his hand to catch the sword on his armor, but there was nothing there. Sharpened side cut solid through flesh. 

Alfred gave a cry of pain, trying to take a step back and collect himself. His fingers faltered on his sword hilt as mine locked tighter around the bones. 

Another slash and he forced himself to duck, else loose his head. I caught a few of the golden curls as the sword went past. Alfred rose quickly, shoving his full dead weight into my chest. I fell, right hand losing its grip. I had to look over and examine the left to see if it yet held the hilt, for I still could not feel it in the slightest. 

The sword had not strayed. 

Alfred was crushing my bones, I could not rise. Unlike the cosmic stag the weight of his armor and weapons was too much for me to bear. I could hear the cracking and fracturing of bones as they strained to hold to their very last. 

_“Get up!”_

Commands I couldn’t hope to follow, yet there I did. The sword released another phantom. I was so close to it now I felt shockwaves of the sensation myself. There was a wave of heat. This skull didn’t even get the chance to unleash its unholy bellows before meeting its target, crashing into Alfred point-blank. 

He caught some of it with the sword, but so close were the two of us that the corruption could not be silenced so easily. The skull only stopped at the blade to shatter it, whatever tainted arcane power now possessed it proving stronger then common steel. What wasn’t caught vented its rage on the cleric-killer tearing through armor and chainmail, melting the white gold and tearing away the wires. I scrambled out from under him. Alfred’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open in unspeakable pain. 

_“Finish him!”_

Could this have been the voice of the Rabbit Prince? He’d sounded different in the web with Leslie, but it must be. There was no one else in my memory who would’ve been able to lend such tremendous power to a weapon. 

How had he managed to speak with my voice? Would not it be more suited to Hyzenthlay and her Owsla of rabbit maidens? 

Now wasn’t the moment to be worried over rabbits. 

Both hands on the blade I finally held all the power. Alfred wouldn’t be able to avoid me any longer. Like an executioner I raised the holy weapon over my head. We became guillotine in that instance, the blade and I, sharp and ready for the severing of heads. 

What sweet justice to execute the Executioner. 

Or so I’d thought. I was quick to credit Alfred with overmuch honor, thought he might face his death with dignity. Instead he flung dirt from the ground into my face. It filtered through the slits in my mask burning my eyes and clouding my vision. 

I was proclaimed useless once again. 

I cast the bone headpiece aside and pawed at my eyes, trying to clean the dirt from them. I could hear Alfred’s clicking armor receding in the distance. The coward was running away from me now, afraid to face his death. Obscured vision did not keep me prisoner long. 

Alfred had pried another weapon from the arms all strapped to the deer. Calling it cosmic now was laughable. In death its glow had faded, it was as dry and dark as scorched toast. The cleric-killer had chosen to wield a hammer, swinging it in arcs over his head to try and impress me. It had no effect, and was especially spoiled by the red running down his severed chainmail from where he’d been cut. 

_“Run.”_

As if I required commanding at this point. My feet leapt to the task. I had closed the distance in seconds, receiving blow after crushing blow on the flat of my sword. The vibration and power of Alfred’s strikes reverberated down to the grip, red ripples breaking over the shining surface. He was swinging with everything he had. A hit like that would cave in my head, then no amount of strange words and cursed swords could save me. 

We fought all around the corpse of the fallen stag. I had to align everything perfectly. Alfred was too bent to his task to look behind. He did not realize I’d begun to press him backwards, inching him out of striking room little by little. 

It wasn’t until he felt the prick of something sharp on his back that he realized it was too late. As he turned to see what was behind him, he grew heedless of that in front. I sent my foot striking into his chest with all I had. 

Leftover golden barbs pierced remaining armor. Alfred gave a wheezing gasp as blood welled in his mouth, sudden and startling. He looked down to find the stag’s horns protruding from one side of his body straight through to the other. He was nothing but pain and death. 

While he yet lived I took the tip of my blade and rested it a hairsbreath from his eye. 

“As you were so quick to steal that boy’s soul so long ago,” I said, “Surely you won’t mind if I take yours for my collection.” 

His final screams shook the earth, but he found his struggles in vain. There was nothing and no one to stop me from claiming my rightful prize. His anguish followed him through a slow death. I left him to bleed out on the barbed horns while I bottled up his soul in the stands. There was a considerable amount of ceramic to be pushed aside, but I wanted a good seat. The world seemed about to end, I was going to watch every second of Alfred’s agony until it all came crashing down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think!


	9. Its My Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through the mirror and what he found there.

My heart was a fluttering bird, sealed in my chest’s cage. No matter how panicked it was ever under lock and key, unable to escape. The candle claws that closed in from all sides wanted to pry my ribs apart and free the twittering thing. I was powerless to stop them, but nevertheless determined to stay employed as jailer. 

“Please.” I pleaded. “Please, I just want to get to the other side.” 

It struck me how useless a word please had become. It never stayed His Lordship’s hand, nor over for thank yous or sorrys. I wanted to voice them anyway, useless as they were. I still held it possible that they would make a change, that at last someone would show mercy. 

But there was no mercy for the dead. 

I felt the touch of their burning claws on my back, but each like a stray ember only scalded for a second. 

I turned to look at them, and watched my infection spread to the phantoms. Seconds after they touched me a plague of feathers overtook their hands, spreading in black waves to encapsulate their entire being. Their throats coughed black clouds as their faces cracked and they split open before me. Floating on their split skins were nests of writing millipedes and giant beetles in place of intestines, lungs and heart. 

The water below rippled with the efforts of flailing insects. Black feathers bobbed like corks in the water. I pressed tired shoulders down on aching palms and scrambled back onto the post before I joined them in the strange waters. It was even harder to keep my balance when I worried the next thing I came across was going to likewise explode at my touch. 

The darker curiosities overtook me and I wondered if the infection had yet made mess of my insides. Were there bugs in my stomach too? How long would it be before they reached my brain? 

Too many thoughts. 

I need to empty my mind of all things but the other side of the lake and my promise to Her Ladyship. What was a walk over water for the woman who had pulled me from the depths of my own sin? 

I was not so selfish that I would let worries of myself eclipse concern for her. I’d made my vows, pledged my service and death did not negate that promise. She must be restored to her throne. 

“Kohso!” 

The shout was so startling it nearly knocked me down on its own. That was Her Ladyship’s voice calling for me, sounding more lost and desperate then I’d ever known it to be. Something must have gone wrong on the other side. Behind me was a wall of fog and the floating remains. 

“I’m sorry!” I shouted over my shoulder. “I can’t go back!” 

“Kohso!” The cry came again. 

I was paying attention now, and while sound didn’t seem to travel the same way here as I was used too, the shouts seemed ahead of me now. Ahead but fast disapearing. I glanced to the side and saw a woman in white furs bounding like a deer in the distance. She was crowned with antlers and I felt compelled to follow after her. 

The locked knees of my infection would not extend far enough to mimic her steps, nessecating I take two for every one of hers. She did not slow herself for ease of being followed. I started to take risks, running across the posts. Everything was slipping and my looser feathers fell into the waters below. The wings were holding me back. Kos, how much I wish I could take it off. 

“Your Ladyship, please!” I called. That cursed useless word again, “I can’t keep up!” 

My words didn’t make any difference. I had to keep going, pushing everything to expand and contract with greater and greater speed. 

“Kohso!” 

It was the cry of those searching for the lost. She was looking for me. 

“Your Ladyship, over here!” I shouted. I waved my arms so that she might see, but it didn’t attract the slightest bit of attention. She was going the wrong way, turning further into the mists, away from the path. “Your Ladyship, I’m over here!” 

She turned and I saw a flash of gold. 

The woman in white furs wore a face that had once belonged to Her Ladyship but had since been reallocated. It was like a broken mask taken off the floor and repaired for a new wearer, somehow old and somehow new. She smiled a crooked grin, cocking her head to the side 

“Who are you?” She asked. 

Before I could answer she disappeared, severed by ghostly sword. As the clouds that composed the strange girl split, they revealed the shore. I was almost at journey’s end. The pond below churned and bubbled the closer I came to the far bank. Little whirlpools took their course around the base of the wooden struts, shaking them to and fro. 

Standing became increasingly difficult, walking an impossibility. I knelt, clutching the post with all of my claws. To fall so close to the end would be maddening. If it were not for Her Ladyship’s trust I might have risked it, run across come what may. That could not be ventured now. If I fell so too did she. 

I clung to the wood while it shook and swirled, clung until my claws started to cut through it. Damn my condition, it destroyed everything. The split post wouldn’t hold my weight for very long. I allowed myself a moment to breathe before focusing both eyes on the shore and taking another step. 

I could feel the shaking all through my bones. My skull was shaking and my limbs would not still themselves. All of the scars His Lordship left me were freshly set to sting. I bit straight through my tongue to keep my focus, ignoring the taste of my own blood. I would ignore all sensations until I stepped onto the shore. 

Everything was exhaustion. The soles of my feet had been cut open by His Lordship’s bundle of thorns a night ago, and now they split again. I left a red trail on the shaking wood. It became too much. I slipped and went falling. The rush of air felt good. One last thing to smile at before the end. 

I was expecting the end to come with a splash, to plummet into that strange water and be dragged into its choking depths by the weight of the infernal wing. Instead I landed in a cloud of dirt. It smelled like fallen petals. I brushed a clattering beetle from my shoulder as I rose. 

The moment after completing the action I dropped to my knees in search of the creature once more. Had it truly been alive? 

Yes! 

Yes there it was, alive and wiggling. It had fallen on its back. I took it gently between my claws and flipped it over. It hurried to crawl away, but even after having vanished, there could be no doubt that it was living. It had been alive. I looked up and saw the posts. The top of the one nearest me was colored with my own blood. I had fallen, yes but onto the shore. I had gone the full length of the pond. 

It was a good thing I’d turned to look when I did. The pond, a perfect oval, froze still and began to move of its own accord. It rose and came up on its side, rising in the most astounding manner. Like a wall pre-assembled and laid to wait on nearby ground, now it came for the raising and you could see the structure of the building taking shape. 

This did not need more than one wall. I’d seen these frozen waters before. Peering into them was looking back to the world from whence I’d came. Her Ladyship was standing on the other side, looking as I’d never seen her before. His Lordship loomed behind her, too shadowy for me to see but I knew by the gleam of his silver hair and the cruel spark in his eyes that he was there. Like cats eyes the twin shards of jade shone in the darkness. 

In another moment the surface of the water started to split. Beneath the petrified ripples and waves white veins like bolts of lightning began to snake their way across the glass. The corner of the pond began to peel. I did not understand how it happened, but that was not the kind of thing for corrupted crows to comprehend. All I could see, all I needed to see of it was my purpose and the task I need complete. It was a simple thing, really. 

I took the peeling corner of the world in my palms. It was soft, like a cotton curtain. With one tear I split the mirror, flinging aside the silver backing until that all stood between Her Ladyship and I was a cracked pane of glass. She pushed her hand against it, shoving from her side. The dead it seemed, could not influence the world from beyond the grave. Even after snapping at His Lordship and getting him to lay his full weight against the glass it did not shift. His Lordship went so far as to hurl one of the helms from the suits of armor at it, but still there was no shatter. 

I remembered how those posed knight’s shells had caused me to pause and wonder at the dangers such a mirror might hold. Now I could see they warned of other things. 

“Get back!” I shouted. 

I wasn’t sure that my words would carry between the barrier. I added a waving of the hands, a shooing motion that wasn’t proper for my own use to those in loftier position, but my simple mind could think of nothing else. I would take His Lordship’s punishment for it later, whatever he wished and endure it gladly. Anything he might dane to do would be nothing when held against the damage shattering a mirror might do to Her Ladyship. 

They retreated a considerable ways, and that was when I laid my hand against the sheet of glass. I could feel it shiver, barely hanging on. It wouldn’t take anything now. The slightest of shoves was all I need give, and in fact, all I did. Glass rained down into the castle on the other side like stars falling from the heavens. I could hear them smashing on the marble floor, and turned away, shielding my face with my arm lest any come down on me. 

It seemed that the living world was protected from such things, as not even the slightest shard landed on this earth. The pond that used to be was gone, leaving the side of the castle bleeding through from one plane to the other. I feared it may not last long, knowing nothing much of sorceries. 

“Your Ladyship?” I called, “Your Lordship?” 

Instead of replying in words they strode confidently forward, arm in arm. There should have been a marvelous reception for their return, some well bred men and women to hail the victory for the house of Hirsch. All that remained in this place was myself and the scuttling beetles. 

I took a knee and waited for them to cross the border. 

She should have passed through first. It was only by her hands that either of us had been redeemed. Her Ladyship shouldn’t have been forced to share that glory. 

There was a clap of thunder when her first step reached the living earth. I should have kept my head down, but I couldn’t help it. My glance shot upwards, in time to see the blackened sky blossom until it was full of silver light. Layer after layer of sparkling metallic danced through the heavens tinting whole galaxies and letting pin-hole stars shine their light down on us. The world was bleaches to pale visages of former colors. 

I was transfixed by the sky, unable to pull away until His Lordship let out a joyful cry. 

We all watched as, like peeling paint, flecks of blackened rotted skin came away from Her Ladyship, filtering themselves up to the sky in dancing curves. Beneath was healthy skin, porcelain and perfect. She had not so much as a scrape on her. 

This wasn’t what had caused His Lordship’s cry of delight. That belonged to the cluster of pale-yellow butterflies that flocked to the space where Her Ladyship’s hand used to be. Their knitting-needle legs and wings like soft butter worked furiously, until little by little, using the fabric of life itself they gave her back her hand. 

I hoped they might do the same to her eye, but the winged fairy doctors did not congregate at the empty socket and fill it with new life. Eyes it seemed, were too complicated. Beyond that void she was as radiant as ever the days of Cainhurst allowed. The silk cape was restored to its former glory, her metal armor shined and free of dents, scraps and stains. There was an elegant sword resting in its hilt at her hilt. 

The grip looked perfect for her hands and she locked her fresh-made fingers around it like an old friend. That was the moment where she took her arm from His Lordship’s. 

His clothes were likewise freshened, face unworn by weariness. There wasn’t the slightest spec of dirt in his hair, which was held behind him with a metal hairpin of dizzying complexity. Coiled at his hip was a black whip, snake-like with precisely woven scales and several forked tongues. A fearsome creature to be master and weapon alike. 

“Quickly, brother.” Her Ladyship said, “Before the door closes.” 

His Lordship nodded and reached back through the hole in the world, locking hands around a wooden chest. He easily brought it through the barrier, thought it was roughly the size of a coffin and quite cumbersome for one man to manage. 

“Shouldn’t he be the one to carry her?” His Lordship asked. 

“It would be gross insult for a Queen to be borne by a crow.” She said, taking my chain in her hands. “We march for Cainhurst and sweet restoration, then once Annalise sits the throne again onwards to revenge. We have come so far, it would not due to be overhasty and spoil it all.” 

“I suppose.” He conceded. 

“Saint Annalise?” I asked. They turned to me, confusion prickling across their faces. “From the prayers? I thought she was trapped by the false-Martyr, Logarius. Locked in eternal combat atop frigid roof and hidden room?” 

“Is that what you told him?” Her Ladyship asked. 

“Of course not.” His Lordship said, “Clearly his brains have addled. Perhaps issuing atonements directly after teaching lessons has weakened his wits.” 

“No.” I said, “Those were you exact words, your Lordship. I recall it verbatim, I would not soon forget what you strove to teach me.” 

“Are you saying that I’ve just lied to my sweet sister about the nature of our lessons?” His Lordship asked. 

“No but I…” 

“No but you what?” He asked, “What is it Crow-boy? I’m either lieing or telling the truth, so which is it?” 

“It’s just that..” 

His Lordship set down the box to bring the back of his hand stinging across my face. There were metal decorations all set in the fine leatherwork, which only made it sting all the more. My face went red. 

“It’s just that he’s forgotten how I’ve said clearly and with a multiplicity of instances that Queen Annalise, who the crow-boy insists upon calling “Saint Annalise” for some reason, had her body beaten by Executioners and locked away in hidden castle, locked beyond death. Her soul escaped to forever haunt the halls of Cainhurst Castle, and might one day be restored to its flesh if ever one is able to reunite them. Was that not what I told you, crow-boy?” 

It wasn’t, but it needed to be. It must be. 

Of course this was the truth. Going across the lake must have scrambled my senses once more. The memories were still coming back. “Yes, your lordship. Sorry, your lordship.” 

Her Ladyship sighed, but did not press the matter further. 

“Walk on.” She instructed. 

“Yes, your Ladyship.” I replied. 

This world was a foreign one to me. I could not recall anything of it. All of the lessons Her Ladyship had labored to put in my head had vanished when I hit the soil. All that remained were recollections of church rooftops. I prayed I was not expected to navigate. 

“Why are we even taking him with us?” His Lordship asked, “He said he didn’t want to be cured, didn’t he? The only thing we needed him for was splitting the mirror, and I’d say he’s done that.” 

His Lordship complained while struggling to balance the chest on his back. I should have been the one carrying it, he was right. Not only would it be a more fitting task for a servant, but as we continued it became increasingly apparent that any task which may have fallen under the parameters of the term “hard labor”. He was constantly readjusting the wooden box, and it frequently slipped from his hand to bang against the ground. Her Ladyship turned to glare at him every time she head the burden drop. 

“Must you question every choice I make?” She asked 

“No, It’s just-“ 

She wasn’t interested in building this conversation into a debate, “I have a vision for him.” 

“What?” His Lordship asked. 

I too, wished to voice the same question, but was glad His Lordship was overhasty in asking so that I did not seem forward and foolish. 

“I have a vision for him, it seems that after some consideration there is a place at Cainhurst for him after all.” Her Ladyship said “I just had to wait for him to shed some light on the situation.” 

“Fine.” His Lordship growled, “As you wish, my sweet sister.” 

She grinned and increased her pace, finding her new body was not at all tired. I thought to turn and try going back and forth through the window once more myself. Perhaps now that the mirror was split my body would at least be reinvigorated if not purged of infection. I was still so tired. 

When I turned back to judge the time that would be lost, I found there was no hope. The gate was gone, vanished. In its place was a dried up pond with wooden posts stretching out across it, as far as the eye could see. 

“Do you know this place, your Ladyship?” I asked. 

I fully expected to be met with scolding, or if particularly unfortunate a stroke of His Lordship’s latest weapon. Her Ladyship was however, in pleasant mood, running her fingers over the gnarled bark of old trees and glancing at the silver sky for nothing else but the sight. 

“Indeed.” She replied, “I could walk these woods even if the Flightless Crow had taken my other eye too. These woods are very near Cainhurst Castle. I grew up hunting in them.” 

My brain began to pound. If we were so near the castle then why was nothing familiar to me? Surely I would’ve been tasked with something, squiring or setting traps or leading guests down paths- something that would’ve required familiarity with the terrain, but there was nothing. Not even the faintest flicker of recognition. 

I strained to see over the topmost branches of the trees, looking for spires or towers, something to mark our proximity towards the Hirsch’s homeland. I could not conjure even the slightest picture of it in my head. The memories were still missing, it was as though I’d never beheld a castle before. I had harbored secret hopes that all of them would return once the mirror was split, but it was for naught. The cursed infection kept them from me. 

“Are you sure?” His Lordship asked, “One woods is much the same as any other. I certinally don’t recall a pond like that near Cainhurst.” 

Her Ladyship laughed, “You were always so shut up in meetings and dinners with the aristocracy I’d be surprised if you recall what any of the courtyards looked like, let alone the woodlands.” 

His Lordship grumbled something that I was not able to catch, and the two of them set to debating the point with much varied levels of passion and enthusiasim. His Lordship seemed to be seeking any and all excuses to stop for rest, but she wouldn’t have it. Her Ladyship began to eagerly relate little events that had transpired by certain landmarks, twisted trees she recognized or fast-flowing streams. I couldn’t remember ever seeing her so impassioned. 

It didn’t matter if I could not recall a thing. My lady was happy, that was all a servant could hope for. I left red footprints in the woods and traveled while His Lordship lamented the weight of the box and the indignity of the journey. 

“We’re nearly there.” Her Ladyship announced, “Over this ridge and then it should just be..yes.. there.” 

She pointed between two trees. His Lordship pushed me aside for a better view, but even skewed I could make out the castle in the distance, rather I could make out what had once been a castle. From here, to me everything appeared to be crumbling ruins. Was this truly the Cainhurst that she’d spoken of with such fervor? 

“How long have we been away?” His Lordship asked. 

“It matters not.” She said, “All will be restored once the Queen is brought back.” 

Her brother seemed doubtful. He shifted his burden and continued on. The silver sky did not change color. There was no moon nor sun, just the ever present glow of the pin hole stars. I had to try and judge time by my own weariness, which had just about reached its limits when we came upon the ancient stone steps that led to the crumbling castle. 

“It is not all that I remember.” His Lordship proclaimed. I don’t think he was looking forward too carrying the chest up all of those stairs. 

If I though Her Ladyship had been enraptured by the trees then it could be said that the castle ruins made her as giddy as a school girl. All this meant was that she had cracked a genuine smile and walked with a light step as opposed to the purposeful footfalls with which she usually plodded. I wanted to beg for respite, and surely His Lordship felt the same way, but as I watched her begin to climb the stairs and felt the pull of her eager hands on my chain, I knew I must follow after. 

Stairs let through courtyard, through open door and reception hall, corridor and grand ballroom until at last we reached the ruins of a throne room. Her Ladyship stopped before entering, inspecting an old chandelier that must have once been an elegant thing, but now lay purposeless on the ground. It was comprised mainly of three great metal rings, beautifully made with complex patterns and jeweled insets. Some of the filigree spilled off and became the circular branches for holding candles, such lots of them could be placed on a thing so large. Broken chains had joined them together before, but the cracked links lay limp on the ground, as much a ruin as the castle itself. 

“It is time.” Her Ladyship said, “Go and set her Majesty on the throne, brother.” 

“Yes, of course, sweet sister.” He replied. 

She then turned to me. “Seek your god once more, Kohso. Pray for our Queen’s safe return.” 

“Yes, your Ladyship.” I said. 

As I was dropping to my knees I felt a sharp pain on my head. I looked up just in time to see Her Ladyship removing the hilt of her blade from above me. 

The world went from silver to black, but the twinkling stars remained.


	10. It's My Fucking Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fwahe waits to watch the world burn, now if only the fire would start.

The world did not seem to end as I had expected it too. The earth did not fall prey to darkness ever-present, did not collapse in on itself and become vortex strong enough to tear all the tiniest strongest pieces of the world in too. 

Instead the sky was painted over in silver and everything started to shine too brightly. I brought my hand over eyes, trying to shield them from the shine of the world. Alfred had breathed his last in front of me, and after ensuring the man was well and truly dead I turned his plate armor to dinner plates. Pry one free and consume the flesh of the defeated. 

What a restorative process that was, to make a meal out of that which tried to kill you. Nothing tasted sweeter than a fallen foe. I filled my stomach and tried to ignore the pain, which grew ever the more prominent as the silver sky waved its metallic ribbons overhead. It was a melted thing, like a smithy’s cauldron, not yet tempered or formed. 

Was the world being re-cast? 

If I was to be melted down I did not wish to be fitted to new form. Oh let my body become the shavings that fell from the craft useless. I was done being a god’s instrument. 

The Rabbit Prince’s astral collar was getting too heavy for me. That fight had taken all of my strength, and even after consuming Alfred’s blood I wasn’t going to get it back anytime soon. This might not have been the end of the world- but surely it was the end for me. My vow to cleanse the world of evil men may have tallied only one, but that was better than complete failure. One victory to carry over to the grave. If only the end would come soon. 

Perhaps my sweet Frigga was already waiting for me there, on that distant shore. I wouldn’t be allowed to cross the black ocean to the white-sand beaches, but perhaps one realm was close enough that we might wave to each other, or pass messages in glass bottles. Just that would be enough, just to wave at her once more. 

I pushed aside the broken pieces of crockery and red hay that littered the stands and lay down on cleared ground. The sky was too bright alongside the Rabbit Prince’s stars. Even the bone mask couldn’t completely block it out. I waited for the flowers to grow over my skin. 

“Crow, are you yet fallen?” 

It seemed a nuisance to reply, to admit to myself that I was not dead or dying just in great pain. Nevertheless I rolled over to see who had spoken. 

It was the self-same rabbit prince, returned once more to speak with me. He stood in the middle of the tourney ground, a legion of black-furred shadows behind him. Their long ears were folded back and seemed to melt one into the other, becoming a seamless shadow. 

“Not quite, Elahrair-Rah, Prince of Rabbits.” I replied, “But I shall soon be.” 

The many ears of his shadow-rabbits shot up when I spoke, swiveling forward to catch every word. They all had black eyes, though thankfully only two of them. Pairs of eyes were enough on me, I didn’t need sets or triplets as well. Why should my death merit such strange audience? 

“I would think otherwise.” Said Elahrair-Rah, “For you have defeated your enemy.” 

“Not without wounds.” I said. 

“Never without wounds.” The Rabbit Prince replied. He looked even stranger against the silver sky. 

Truth profound in that, but I did not wish to be lectured in my final moments. All I wanted was to fade quickly and be with my love once more. 

“Please just go away.” I said. 

“I can, if you should truly wish that.” Elahrair-Rah said, “But I would have you hear what my Owsla- that is my Kingsgaurd would have to say.” 

It seemed one of those times where conversation was mandatory. How sad that I had no control, not even over my final moments. A disappointing end to a disappointing life. I sighed and waited for the shadows to speak. The voice that emanated from the black mass was chilling, a thousand different types of speech all saying the same words together. They echoed within themselves. 

“You have saved our Prince, noble crow, defeated the hunter of the gods. A thousand gods owe you debts and we have come from each of them, from every god who would honor you. A thousand of us and we led the stardust draped in our ears, the speed of our legs and the white warning flags of our tails to your cause. We have blessings to lay at your feet, noble crow.” 

“Your journey need not end here.” 

The Prince of Rabbits joined his Owsla for the final line, and I found myself standing where I had previously been flat on the ground. There was more evil in this dying world, every bit of it toxic, seeping into the ground. 

“Here is as good as anywhere else.” I said, “The blood of my greatest enemy now floods my stomach.” 

“Enemy indeed.” The Rabbit Prince replied, “But hardly your greatest. You have shadows in your soul Fwahe, shadows that have found a way to stand in the sun and blot out the light. More numerous than my fine Owsla are the evil deeds of this shade who ensnares you. She has broken free of the bonds of death, and returned to life. Surely you have heard her voice by now.” 

I got the sinking feeling that I had. Whatever had been talking through my sword, what ever Kohso wasn’t certainly sounded as though it came from the dead. I was not well read when it came to the subject of gods, but Elahrair-Rah did not seem the type of creature to which lying naturally came. It was the same feeling I’d had before, in Leslie’s web, the feeling that I could trust what he said. Even still I did not like truthful and trustworthy interruption on my deathbed. 

“Stop speaking in riddles.” I demanded, taking the astral collar from my shoulders and throwing it at his feet. “I am tired. I am hurt. Have I not at least earned peaceful death?” 

“You intend to greet death on your feet?” The Rabbit Prince asked, “She rarely comes for those who yet stand.” 

“What is it to you, how I choose to die?” I asked. 

“It is to me, amuseument when I come here to offer new life to the one resigned to the grave before hers is even dug.” He replied. 

“My arm is broken, my body aches. I have slain the cosmic deer and its infernal rider, is that not enough?” 

“Is you arm truly broken?” The Rabbit Prince asked. 

I took a step to the side, full of intent to show him the battered bones and split skin. His eyes followed mine, but I found my own were the ones that then widened in surprise. Everything had been reset, with not so much as a silver stain to be seen. I found I could flex my fingers without the slightest of problems. 

“And the stag.” The Rabbit Prince said, “Has it truly breathed its last?” 

I turned my head along with the two thousand eyes of Elahrair-Rah’s Owsla. We watched as the cosmic deers corpse began to shift. Breath once more filled the beast’s starry lungs. It began to rise on shaking legs, coiled muscles within its shoulders straining to right itself once more. As it came away from the ground, the blackened dirt of the arena clung to the once pristine fur. The spider silk held the metalwork together with impossibly delicate precision. 

Little by little the debris began to work its way through the cosmic stag’s tendrils of fur, turning what was once white starlight into undulating nebulas. From tail to antler tip the sky within the stag darkened. The fine white and gold dress that Alfred had covered the cosmic stag with started to change too, becoming silver wisps of spiderweb and panels of platinum armor. 

“Of course, it will need a new master.” Elahrair-Rah said. “Someone to take into noble battle and defend until its very last.” 

“Moments ago it tried to kill me.” I said. 

“It is a star reborn now.” The Rabbit Prince said, “I assure you that you will find it quite another creature now.” 

Honestly, one might consider it different that the stag hadn’t lowered its antlers with the intent to skewer me, and find themselves well within the truth. It stood at last, proud as ever the great crown of its antlers towering towards the shining heavens. The cosmic stag gave a snort and a white cloud of breath came from its mouth. There could be no doubting it now, the stag lived. 

“I killed it.” I said. 

“Yet it is not dead.” 

“Does this mean Alfred will return too?” I asked. 

The Rabbit Prince bent down and nudged Alfred’s lifeless body with his nose. The corpse moved like a corpse, no breath no stirring. 

“I think not.” Elahrair-Rah replied. “He has been drained of his blood and his soul is gone. He was never a god as the stag was.” 

“Thank Kos for that.” I said. 

“Judging by his wounds and lack of fluid I’d say Kos had nothing to do with it.” The Rabbit Prince chuckled. 

“No.” I agreed, smiling all the while, “I don’t suppose she did.” 

“She is fearful of interference.” Admitted the Rabbit Prince, “But these are days where fear leaves you slain on the fields. When the gods themselves cower, what is there to be done?” 

I shrugged. 

“Then it is the time for mortal champions, those accustomed to the coming of Death. The immortals fear the day they are not, but you’ve lived your whole life knowing it would be a finite thing. You expect to die on lonely shores, yet resist this with whatever is provided to you. Are you so desperate that you would find a pool of blood on tourney grounds an option so much the better?” 

I met him again with a shrug. He couldn’t expect so much from a woman who’d given up. 

“Take what you are given, little crow.” He advised, “We fill your body anew with strength, have given you the fastest thing on four legs to propel you onward. You see all this and shrug to lay back in the dirt?” 

“I am tired.” I said. 

“Are not we all?” He asked. 

“You have a thousand shadows to keep you company.” I said, “They must help to pass the time. You are a Prince and I am a girl in feathers.” 

“Yet you felled a man on a gods mount, with weapons and armor beyond your own.” He said. 

“I am tired.” I repeated. 

“You cannot let your efforts end here. There are those that need you to carry on, those besides me. Would you leave them trapped in their own minds, dying in sick beds?” 

“Frigga’s alive?” I asked. 

The two thousand eyes of Elahrair-Rah’s Owsla blinked in unison. When they opened they were two thousand empty glass domes, that like crystal balls began to cloud. I ducked beneath the paws of the Rabbit Prince and pressed my hands to the side of the nearest shadow-rabbit’s head. The smoke began to clear, and then there she was. 

Her dress and sheets and skin were white, white like milk not like the living. She was tangled in a net of her own hair, that’s how it seemed the way it spread behind her on the pillow and wrapped around her arms- stuck with sweat. I didn’t hear her cough, but I could see her curl inwards and spasm- seized by fits. 

I wanted to put my hand on that rabbit’s eye, to push it through and reach out too her but I knew it was a fruitless impossibility. She coughed again and again, then rolled over. I could see as she lay on her side just how thin she’d grown. Little by little she’d been picked away at, a cake of soap after thousands of baths. There wouldn’t be anything left before long. 

“Is she not worth fighting for?” The Rabbit Prince asked. 

“How dare you even suggest that she isn’t?” I growled at him. 

“I never did.” Elahrair-Rah said, “It was you who wanted to lie in the dirt and let your soul fade forever while hers still strains.” 

The two thousand eyes blinked again, and she was gone. I wanted to pound at their faces and demand they re-open but I knew that would be madness. The Rabbit Prince’s blessing was perhaps the only one I was going to receive. 

“How am I to save her?” I asked. 

The Rabbit Prince lowered his ears and turned his head to the side, “You do not know?” 

I all but threw my sword at his face. “Of course I don’t! I’m not a doctor, I haven’t studied. The stupid scratches on books swim for me and never make sense so no- I don’t a cure for White Blindness, your royal highness!” 

His ears shot back up and the Prince of Rabbits stamped his foot on the ground. His Owsla circled in on me, leaning their two thousand ears together in a veil that blocked out the silver sky. A rabbit on its own, even one of Elahrair-Rah’s size did not seem a particularly intimidating creature, but standing in a ring of their shadows prey became predator very quickly. 

“I know you are impassioned.” The Prince of Rabbits said, his voice echoing in the canyon carved by his Owsla, “But my rabbits are not so understanding. I’d advise a bit more humility when speaking around them.” 

I nodded. 

“Forgive me, little crow, for I thought that by taking Alfred’s eyes you surely had knowledge of how to save a life in peril.” The Prince of Rabbits said. 

“Eyes?” I asked, reaching into my cloak and removing the jar that housed Alfred’s stolen ones. It bumped against another glass vessel holding another eye and I felt a chill run down my spine. So many stolen things I now carried, “This is just for revenge. He’d stolen the soul of someone dear to me.” 

Elahrair-Rah nodded, eyes a glow with sudden understanding. “So I see.” 

I replaced the eyes and The Rabbit Prince’s Owsla relaxed, stepping aside and making the space breathable again. It was impossible to say that I stood on equal footing with him, but at least I wasn’t constantly facing a reminder of my inferiority. 

“If you are able to exchange the souls, a complicated magic to be sure but there are mages- mages like your sickened lover who would be able to perform such ceremonies. You must steal her a soul, little crow, steal souls from the wicked and you may yet save this earth.” Instructed the Rabbit Prince. 

“There isn’t anyone left alive.” I said. 

“They will be coming.” Replied Elahrair-Rah, “They will come and it will be only you who is brave and able to oppose them. You may lie down in the dirt and wait for crows with wings to peck our your eyes and make nests of your bones, but then it will be your grave that becomes the first of thousands. Lie down and condemn others to lay with you.” 

“I did not ask for this.” I said. 

Once more the Prince of Rabbits lay back his ears and titled his head to the side. “Didn’t you?” 

I didn’t want his rabbits set upon me once more, so in lieu of petty response I shrugged. 

“You did swear to devour the wicked and become the crescent phase once, is that no longer the case?” Elahrair-Rah questioned. 

“That is different then-“ 

“That is no different then now.” Elahrair-Rah concluded, “For you would be performing the same task as before. Will you forsake your vows and fall to the earth, or will you stand and with blessings laid upon you, sally forth and keep your promises.” 

The dirt sounded so much easier, so much warmer- but that warmth became sweltering. How shameful that I should want to die when Frigga fought so hard for her own survival. She was still alive, and here I was perfectly able and willing to give up. I could never disappoint her, and now there was a chance to take her in my arms again. 

“I take their eyes and then she gets better?” I asked. 

The Rabbit Prince nodded, “The particulars will perhaps be more complicated then that, but in simplest terms that is what you must do.” 

We talked no longer, for I had lost time enough already. If there was a place left in this world that would have old evil crawling from its depths, it would be Cainhurst. I thought I had put the place to rest long ago, but old wells could yet spring poisoned water. Cainhurst was an impossible distance from my current standings, and even given the cosmic deer’s swiftness I doubted whether or not I’d be able to reach it and return in time to be of any use. One thing was for certain, if I continued to lurk about on the tourney grounds I wouldn’t have even the slightest chance of success. I started towards the deer, and was surprised to find it did not lower its head and bear its horns at me. Just as Elahrair-Rah had said, it did not startle in the slightest, but greeted me like the loyalist of steeds, bending down on bent forelegs so that I could mount it easily. 

I found that hanging from the spider-silk saddle was a metalwork scabbard, the perfect size for my Holy Moonlight sword. I wondered if jt should still even be called that, for I had a feeling the blade was going to stay red for the remainder of my time wielding it. Much like the darkened stag it was just something I’d have to get used too. 

I found that the size of the saddle was perfect, that the reigns of the creature set easily in my hands. Everything was as though it was made for me, and perhaps on some grand scale it may have been. Did the god think black my color? 

The color of a crow. Yes, I suppose this was as far from Fwahe’s white coat as I could come. I was a crow after all. 

“I have one last gift for you, before you go.” Elahrair-Rah said. 

He twitched his long ears and like a latch snapping into place, the astral collar rose and came to perfect circle around the Rabbit Prince’s neck. The glowing stars reflected in his eyes and the shimmering dark fur of his Owsla for quite the multiple mirrored-effect. He seemed to have more stars then were truly there. 

“The road ahead will be dark.” He said, “I do not wish for you to lose your way.” 

I wanted to argue that the road would be a considerable bit lighter considering the sky’s silver coloring, but it didn’t seem the time. The Owsla didn’t like having their Prince questioned. 

Elhrair-Rah nudged one of the smaller stars away from the others with his nose. His whiskers dripped with glowing white stardust. The little star hovered in the air, floating over towards me and coming to rest between the two crested antlers of the cosmic stag. It shone as a lighthouse does, save the rotation. 

“Thank you, Prince of Rabbits.” I said. 

“Serve me well, Flightless Crow and that shall be thanks enough.” Elhrair-Rah replied. He took a step back and bowed, so too did the thousand black shadows at his back. I clicked my heels and the deer started away, bounding neatly for the castle door that we’d come through. It had to lower its head, to get through the door and had great difficulty navigating the narrow halls of the castle. Even so, it did not slow its pace even once. 

We were soon at the top of the hill which I’d climbed to reach the tournament of the Black Rabbit. Leslie’s mess was still spread out below eerily aglow in its reflection of the sky. Beyond that were dense woods and burnt villages. The silver sky made it easy to see, and off to the west were the towering mountains that would stand as the first marker on the path to Cainhurst. 

There was so long to journey. 

“You’d better not try and kill me.” I said to the stag. 

I still didn’t trust it. 

The creature made no reply. It seemed to operate solely based on the will of its rider and considering I did not wish to murder myself, the stag did me no harm. I turned the reins, the mount responding to my lightest touch. It bounded down the road to Castle Frith and churned up white ash while crossing the burnt web. As much as it had been obliterated by the powers of Elahrair-Rah, signs of Leslie’s craft lingered. There were piles in places that resembled the bodies they used to be far too closely for comfort. 

To ride instead of walk was a thing I could not recall missing, but now that I was in the act of it I couldn’t see the sense in going through the woods any other way. Surely if I had been aboard the cosmic stag I’d never have gotten tangled up in that fairy circle. 

It was doubtful weather or not the creature would survive in the caves of Moto Maji. That may be the moment when the flesh eating beetles got a fresh taste of venison. This was a time of sacrifices. 

The ashes made the air dry. They got into my throat and my nose while the cosmic stag churned up great clouds beneath it powerful hooves. The ashes clung to my legs, but would not stick to the deer’s fur. Nothing from this world seemed to stick to it, not even death. The dead made my skin itch, and no matter how many times I leaned down to brush away the layer of ash, a new one would bring fresh irritation a few yards later. 

I was glad when we had finally put the valley of ashes behind us. The trees didn’t seem to be the same ones I’d passed before. Leaving a place presented a different landscape then arriving, and everything was changed by new elevation. I didn’t have to worry about ducking my head, as was the case with riding horses. The antlers of the cosmic stag were all that one needed to knock branches aside or direct a steed to find new paths if the overhead interlace became too thick. 

Elahrair-Rah had spoken true, for after journeying into the forest for some ways the stygian branches of trees with their charred leaves were grown so tightly together that they became a new sky. Without the beacon from the Astral Collar I would’ve been lost to the shadows. Who would’ve ever noticed black feathers in black woods. 

We were shadows amongst the shadows, and there was nothing to illuminate us after those that sought to do harm were blinded by the star searchlight. We could be seen for brief instants, but with a turn of the head and a deft swivel of hind legs the cosmic deer would bound away and leave danger in the dust. 

I began to see the plausibility of Alfred’s safe arrival to tourney grounds. He hadn’t had to fight to reach them half so hard as I. I would make sure not to grow soft as he had, I could not afford to fail when Frigga’s live hung on the line. Revenge for Kohso had been one thing, one more angry nail I could pound into the coffin of the boy I never should’ve had to bury. 

There were times where I started to forget his name, and was grateful for the mausoleum residence. It was hard to truly let something carved into headstone escape the mind for long. His tomb brought him back. It seemed a lot of time had passed since I last laid flowers on the space in front, combed the dust and moisture from the chiseled facets. I didn’t like it when dirty got into the inscription, he didn’t seem the type to let things get that way. 

I didn’t remember him being the type anyway, not at first. If there had been any dirt, I hoped he was free of it now, back to the ornamental holy things he so liked to wear. I tried to recall the inscription exactly, but found parts of it were muddled in my memory. The years were lost to me, numbers were always the first to go. What was a handful of years when you’d lived for a hundred? 

“Kohso of Odeon Chapel” 

That first bit was the easiest to remember, and the only part that didn’t make me angry. 

“Good hunter, devoted son of the church, gone before his time.” 

All of it was true, but so impersonal. Nearly every church-funded grave in the cemetery said that. The little cleric had deserved more than a template. Maybe it was more than that and I’d just forgotten the parts I didn’t hate. 

Had there been parts of Kohso that I hated? 

_There is so much to hate about him._

The voice again. I snatched the reigns of the cosmic deer and turned it around sharply, looking behind me for the speaker. It snorted in protest, white clouds of breath rising from its nostrils. 

“Who’s there?” I asked. 

I knew it was a pointless question. No matter how the Astral Collar’s beacon swung, round and round piercing through the knotted tree trunks it found no creatures. There weren’t snakes in the grass nor owls nestled in the hollows of trees. I searched, knowing all the while it was in vain. It was the search of the desperate, the mad, so driven to find answers despite knowing there were none to be had. I tried to will my lies into exsistance but in the end, in the dark I was forced to face the truth. 

The only voice that had spoken was the one in my head.


	11. I Want To Take the Wings Off

When I came to the world did not seem the same. I was sore from fresh wounds and my head was pounding. The smell of sulfur was heavy in the air, sulfur and dead things and blood. I knew it was my own blood, I could feel it hot and sticky on my chest. This wasn’t like the flow that came after His Lordship’s lashes- a result, this was intentional, a letting. Someone had cut me open. 

“H-“ 

I tried to call for help, but cawed instead. 

The pounding in my head dropped to my chest, heart racing a mile a minute. I tried to bring my hands to my throat, to scrape at the skin and try to push the sounds out, but found they were restrained. With every heartbeat and throbbing ache in my skull the world became a little less blurry. I tried to still my breathing, to banish the panicked thoughts from my brain but they would not leave. There were feathers in my throat, I could feel them. Wings on the inside. 

Take them off! Please! Somebody take them off! I want to take the wings off but I can’t. I want to pull the wings out of my throat but my arms don’t reach. 

Iron cuffs which seemed heavier than the wings were holding me back. I tried to call please, shout for help do anything but the only sound that came out of my throat was the horrible cawing. Like a crow. Gods, forsake me I sounded just like a crow. 

“Can you make him shut up?” 

Her Ladyship’s voice. She must be nearby, and very frustrated from all the sharp snap of her voice. It was mirrored in the harsh click of His Lordship’s boots as they crossed the floor to reach me. I was puzzled to find him looking up at me and I down at him. Another throb of the head and more of the world came into focus. I was hanging, hanging from that old chandelier frame. I made a giant “X” inside the iron circle. 

“I can make him do anything you like.” His Lordship replied. 

“Please.” I said in my head, but a croaking caw was all the came out. His Lordship’s knee went into my stomach. The whole world shook. 

I could feel the gush, like water, like the spilling of a stream as new blood poured from old wounds. Looking down I could see it fall. There was a bowl beneath me, brimming with my own blood. They were collecting it, or cleaning it or...the more I tried to think about it the more my head hurt. 

“Make him work, then. Make it work!” Her Ladyship shouted. 

I could feel the burn of His Lordship’s eyes on me. I had disappointed them again, though for reasons I didn’t begin to understand. I couldn’t ask even the simplest of questions. 

“Try lighting the candles…” He muttered. 

It felt like sparks had flown into my eyes, each newly lit flame seared me. The light hurt and I longed to shy from it, but there was nothing to be done. 

“Please.” I tried again. 

Only caws. 

There was another stomping, another pair of angry boots. Her Ladyship appeared beneath me too. 

“I told you to shut him up.” She snapped. 

“Oh come on, sweet sister.” His Lordship entreated, “Little Crowso just missed you.” 

He chuckled while she glared. “This is no laughing matter, Kane.” 

His Lordship still seemed rather pleased with his words, but stiffed up smartly and tried to put forth a serious front. Her Ladyship was holding a leather bound book in her hands. Looking down at it I recognized the language. The words were in Latin as many church prayers. 

Many of the church prayers I had known as a child. 

That’s what my memory told me but it couldn’t be right. Her Ladyship said I hadn’t ever heard of the gods before being brought to and redeemed at Cainhurst. Why was it that the language I couldn’t possibly have learned was more familiar then the castle I’d spent most of my life in? 

Nothing made sense. 

Liquid fire dripped onto my back, spreading down my spine and pooling on my shoulders. The candles His Lordship had lit were beginning to melt. They scorched skin and old scars. I bit my bottom lip to hold in the cries. Her Ladyship had asked for silence. 

“Are you sure the translation is correct?” She asked. 

“I read Latin as well as English and German.” His Lordship replied, “Everything is as it should be. Perhaps it was all a farce and one cannot bring back the dead. Creating liches, weaving bones and flesh back together it might as well be an old wive’s tale.” 

“We came back from the dead.” Her Ladyship reminded, “I brought us back from the dead. The knowledge springs from the same source, so tell me why after so much struggle and endless strife here is where we fail? We have drawn the circle correctly, spoken the words in perfect cadence and set her majesty, Queen Annalise’s remains on holy throne. There were no further instructions, no reports of failure.” 

She shoved the book into His Lordship’s chest. He tried to reply, but she held up a hand, silencing him before he could start. 

“We went so far as to provide her with ample reason to return.” Her Ladyship continued. 

I watched her dip her fingers into my blood. There was a skin beginning to form on the top, she left trails over the surface where her fingers dragged, stirring it all together before bringing dripping fingers to her lips and take a taste. 

“I told you Crowso was a sweet one.” His Lordship laughed. 

“Undeniably, the taste is good.” She said, “Why won’t she come?” 

His Lordship set the book aside and put his arm around Her Ladyship’s shoulders. “Perhaps the body just, say for too long. It is beyond our capacity to bring back. There is no shame in that, a thing dead for so long can’t be expected to-“ 

“She was our Queen!” Her Ladyship shouted, pushing her brother away, “She is our Queen! Don’t you dare call her a thing!” 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” His Lordship said. “Surely you know I’d never speak ill of Her Majesty.” 

“I know.” She sighed, “I know.” 

“We’ve tried everything.” He comforted, “But if she will not return, someone should sit the throne of Cainhurst again. Too long has this place been without a ruler.” 

“No.” She said, “We must keep trying. Read it again. We must have missed something.” 

She talked as one obsessed, but her brother humored her without hesistation. I could see the words on the page as he read them off, watching along with his trailing finger. He was getting it wrong though. His Lordship kept saying five when he should have said four. There was the mistake. It was right in front of them, right in the numbers. 

Her Ladyship didn’t notice. 

I cawed again and was met with fresh threats from His Lordship. If only these feathers would come out of my throat and I could speak. 

“Read It again.” She instructed, “I couldn’t focus with his outburst.” 

I braced for more pain as His Lordship read the text once more. I let out a caw when he spoke incorrectly. His Lordship promised to sew my mouth shut for the offense and was about to leave in search of needle and thread, when Her Ladyship bade him stuff. There was a flash of understanding in her eyes. 

“He’s trying to tell us something. Read that passage again.” 

“A third time?” His Lordship complained. 

“You’ll read it as many times as I say.” She said. 

“Of course, sweet sister.” He muttered. He took a step towards her, turning his back to me and hiding the pages, but I knew the sound of the numbers and cawed again when he spoke it wrong. I saw the slightest tense of his hand, the whitening of knuckles. 

“He caws at the same part.” Her Ladyship said. 

I knew I could trust her. Nothing escaped her superior wit, her cunning eyes. 

“So what?” His Lordship snarled. “You’re going to let Crowso weigh in on your most important work? Do you doubt my translation?” 

Her Ladyship sighed, “When you do not produce the desired results, then yes I doubt your translation brother. I know I have not failed in my portion of this trial, so the only possibility that remains is for you to have neglected faithful completion of yours.” 

He was fuming but there was nothing he could say. Her Ladyship took the book and began to study it thoroughly. She seemed to be having a hard time with it, mouthing the syllables under her breath. Frequently I watched her eyes flicker and return to a previous sentence for re-reading. I was astonished to find that study was not an easy pursuit for her. If only I could explain it. 

“What number is this?” Her Ladyship asked. 

“Five.” Kane replied, then in Latin, “quinque.” 

Her Ladyship’s fingers dug into the page, crumpling the paper. “No, brother. That’s four. Quattuor.” 

“Alois, please.” He scoffed, “I know you are a bit upset but remember our lessons. I know Latin better then you do. I know figures better then you do I-“ 

“Do not dismiss me!” She growled. “Look!” 

“Alois there is no way that-“ 

“Look!” she demanded. 

Of course Her Ladyship had figured it out. The pages were thrust towards His Lordship’s eyes. He merely skimmed them, barely pausing on the figures to check his work. He’d known. By all the gods he’d willingly deceived her. I worried she wouldn’t see it, but of course Her Ladyship was far more clever then I. 

His Lordship screeched in pain. The book fell to the ground. Her Ladyship had raked sharpened nails across his face, marring the symmetric features with deep incisions. Silver blood leaked from the wounds, lowering thick curtains over his eyes. She was far from done with her brother, taking his hair and knotting it into her fist while forcing him to his knees beneath her boots. 

“Explain yourself immediately.” She said. 

The passion was gone from her voice, all replaced with stony indifference. The command was absolute, like words from a god. Resistance would’ve been impossible. 

His Lordship made pitiful whimpering noises as he worked to cope with the pain. It could be hard to make words happen when one was agony’s prisoner. Eventually the confession started to come out, thick and fast. He pleaded for understanding from his stone-faced sister but she never relaxed her grip. 

“I thought it would be better this way.” His Lordship stammered, “If there were no Annalise. She would never approve of all I wished to do, all we might wish to do. Is it not better for you and I to sit the throne? I would make a fine King of Cainhurst, the first in generations and you right beside as my noble queen. We could’ve conqured the world anew, you and I. Alois you want revenge on the Flightless Crow, not to toil under the rule of an old hag.” 

Her Ladyship brought her boot down harder, while pulling her fist upwards. A knot of His Lordship’s hair came free, dripping with bloodstained roots. She cast it to the ground while he screamed. 

“How dare you conspire against me.” She said, “All this time I had made the mistake of trusting you. I would’ve been better to have William assist me. I should send you back beyond the mirror.” 

“No, Alois please!” He begged. 

She spat in his face. 

“Disgusting.” She proclaimed. 

She left him on the floor and went to correct the mistake in the spell books. I watched as she tediously cleared away a chalk circle to remake it, repositioning the various elements that were called for as she went. It was a long process and when His Lordship had recovered from the pain, he tried to offer his help. 

“Speak to me again and I shall put you in Kohso’s place. After what you’ve done you deserve to be Her Majesty’s fist meal. The only reason I don’t kill you is because your life isn’t mine to take. You sought to destroy our Queen so she shall decide your punishment.” 

“Mercy.” He begged. 

“I know not the meaning of the word.” She said. 

He continued to grovel until she threatened to tear out his tongue. I hated His Lordship, truly in the core of my heart could not stand for him to be near- but I still felt a great deal of sorrow for the man. Disappointing Her Ladyship had destroyed me. 

I could only guess that hours had gone by. The sky didn’t change to mark their passage, but I now told time with the growing soreness of my own muscles. I could count the seconds in the dripping of my blood, the sound as it hit the pool to collect with other spilling was as regular and common as any tick-tocking clockwork. 

My stomach let out a pitiful growl. 

In this world I grew hungry. 

We didn’t need to dine in the land of the dead, but here I could feel the gaping hole in my stomach. There were two of them, twins in reverse- sides of a coin. Mirrored halves, a slit on the outside and a hollow on the inside. I endured in silence. 

What insult would it be to caw now when Her Ladyship needed all concentration to bring the directions on book page into practice. I did not wish to trouble her with petty needs. It seemed she intended to feed me to her Queen. 

I had the sense that this was not the first time I’d been chained and put forth as food. In my memory there was something about slaves and a ship and a bucket that a girl refused to clean. Shaking, god there was shaking too. 

Her Ladyship made no mention of boats, none at all when she told of my history, but just like the Latin I knew it was true. It had to be true. I remembered the rock of the weathered wood, the sloshing of too little and then too much food in my gut. There were scathing insults, but the words were cotton in my memory, fuzzy and immaterial. 

Nourishment, that was the purpose I now served. 

Had this been her intent all along? 

Surely not she had sworn to cure me, and in turn I had betrayed her. I’d asked for more, she had a right to go back on her word now. I would gladly offer my body to her Queen if that was what Her Ladyship wished me to do. I didn’t belong in a world so pure. 

When at last her preparations were complete, Her Ladyship spoke strange words over the mound of bones and crusted flesh piled on ancient throne. She took a step back and pressed her hands together, as in prayer. I dared not hope it worked, for I feared any inteverion, the slightest praying on my part would ruin it completely. Cawing would surely cause the cup of wrath she’d filled for His Lordship spilling over onto me. I would drown. 

Nothing seemed to be happening. I saw her shoulders fall, all of her bones set more heavily in their mooring no longer buoyed with hope. 

Then the ancient withered flesh on the throne twitched. The chamber echoed with cracking noises as it shifted, casting aside caked dirt. We looked on as a rotten wrinkled heart, an apple long past its prime began to beat. Bones knotted themselves together, held as one by thin slivers of leathery flesh or strands of yellowed sinew. Limbs cracked and organs throbbed as the long deceased sought to live once more. 

Perhaps I thought this process would be like stepping through the mirror, and that once completed the body of their Queen would be restored. It was not so. I forgave His Lordship for calling her a thing, for truly what she had conjured was not human nor animal but something lacking of both life and death. There was a glow in the hollow sockets where the Queen’s eyes should have been, but no life and reason just dark space. Everything inside the bone barred cage of her body was withered and pulsing, beating as it used to though lacking the blood to properly fill. 

Her Ladyship took a knee and bowed before the Litch Queen. She did not appear at all disturbed by her creation. 

“Your majesty, it is a blessing and an honor to see you on the throne again.” She said. 

The thing spoke back to her. 

It’s voice was the wind in wintertime, biting through clothes and flesh to freeze you from the inside out. 

“It has been a long time.” 

Every syllable unleashed cracking and scraping, old bone shifting in new grooves. The Litch Queen tried to smile, and I had to turn away. The sight made me sick. 

“Rise, my child.” Spoke the Litch. 

Her Ladyship complied. There was a reserved delight to her every motion. She was grateful to have her castle and its ruler restored. It made my blood boil that she should have to accept such scraps in place of a feast. The world had rotted while she was away, and now she played in its ruins as though they were the precious originals. 

Cainhurst could not have always looked like this. I would not have forgotten a skeletal queen. Her Ladyship could not have grown up in broken places. She was too good for them. Why should she have to eat off broken china when there were places with full cabinets and beautifully set tables. If only I were to have been able to serve her longer, I would take her to one of these places. I would give her the banquet she deserved. 

“You are not as I remember you.” The Litch Queen said, “Tell me Lady Alois, what has happened to your eye?” 

“It was stolen.” She said, “Stolen by a flightless crow.” 

“These are weary times, and they ravage my finest knight.” The Litch Queen sighed. 

“I will have it back.” Her Ladyship assured, “But I sought your restoration first.” 

The ancient Queen nodded her understanding. She began to stand, clouds of dust littering the throne as forgotten joints were forced together anew. I couldn’t watch this either. 

“What is that intoxicating smell?” Se asked. 

I closed my eyes tighter. 

I didn’t want to die like this. I didn’t want to die in Alfred’s embrace either. Alfred. 

Who was… 

Executioner Alfred. Executioner Alfred had murdered me on the open fields of Mensis and the only one to see it had been Fwahe. What were these names who were these people? It was said that a person’s life flashed before their eyes when death came for them- what happens when the life flashing belonged to someone else? It didn’t. It couldn’t. This had to be mine. Like His Lordship- like Kane had lied about the numbers, she had lied about my life. It was flooding back so fast it turned my stomach, but not fast enough. She was going to feed me to her Queen. I thrashed in my bindings, and saw her eyebrows raise in surprise. 

“Seems he’s forgotten how to behave.” She said, “I apologize your Majesty.” 

The Litch Queen waved her apology away, instead passing over His Lordship- over Kane, and coming to the bowl my blood had collected in. She bent her face down towards the basin, pressing her lips to the rim of the bowl and taking a long sip from the collected liquid. I couldn’t watch her do it any longer, it made my stomach lurch. 

She came away after the bowl was drained. 

“He is good, and sweet.” She said. 

“I am pleased you find his taste satisfactory.” Her Ladyship replied. 

Alois. I had to remember she was Alois. Gods, why was this so hard? 

“Before you have any more, your majesty I must inform you of a traitor in our midst.” She said. 

“Whatever do you mean, child?” The Litch Queen asked. 

Alois began to explain Kane’s efforts to claim the throne for himself. She laid the whole journey out in detail. From start to finish the Litch Queen now knew all of what Kane had done to me, and the points along the way where he’d made attempts to sabotage his sister. Of course the last sin was the most egregious and caused the thin bone hands of the ancient evil to curl to fists. 

“Forgive me, your majesty!” Kane pleaded, on his knees, “Forgive me, I beg of you.” 

The Litch Queen took his chin in her hands, lifting his eyes to look at the space where hers used to be. He was shivering. Kane licked his lips and gave her a nervous smile. She smiled back at him, no lips all teeth. 

He did not look like a lord, quaking on the floor as he was. All the long strands of his hair which usually spilled over my shoulders in winding ripples or stayed neatly pinned behind his back were a tangle. They were flung in his face or split apart from each other over his shoulder, like a cape that had once been elegant fabric but was now split down to each separate thread. 

“Oh, son of Cainhurst, do you fear your queen so?” The Litch asked him. “You quiver enough to shake dust from our ceilings.” 

His eyes went wide and he licked his lips again, searching for words that would not come. He’d never been at a loss for them when I was the one on my knees. 

“Your silence will buy you no favors.” The Litch Queen proclaimed. 

“Wait-“ He cried 

Before anything more was spoken, the bone spikes of the Litch Queen’s fingertips had pinched the corners of his left eye. With a pop and a gush of silver blood she plucked the jade grape from his socket. Kane’s back tried to bend, but the Litch Queen’s free hand had his chin in a vice, and no amount of struggling stopped her as she continued her extraction. The first eye was flung on the floor and while Kane might’ve still been able to see she crushed it beneath her boot. 

The other sooned joined it, until there were two puddles on the floor and a screaming waterfall above them. The rain wasn’t falling fast enough for the Litch Queen. 

“This is the last time you betray me or Cainhurst’s finest daughter.” Queen Annalise said. 

The ruins of the castle thundered with the sounds of his screams as the Litch Queen pressed her hands to either side of Kane’s head, and pushed until his skull caved. The crack of it was an impossible thing, loud as a gunshot. Flesh and brain matter and blood all melded together into twisting visages of death. He was somehow still screaming when the Litch Queen bent down and took the first bite. She locked her sharpened teeth around the knotted mass of brains and blood and bone, tearing away a chunk and swallowing it near whole. 

She ate like a starving man give a roast chicken. The skin and meat all came off together, the Litch Queen hardly stopping to swallow. Stalwart and unflinching Alois looked on as her brother was devoured. She didn’t blink or cringe, but watched with measured indifference. Her enforcer was no more. 

I felt no relief in his death. I should have but I didn’t. Kane would no longer come for my body in the night, that was to be certain- but if he hadn’t been begging on his knees that would be my body torn between those teeth. It was still to be my fate. If only I had sour blood that would not appeal to this wicked thing. If only I could reach down and stop the wounds from leaking. 

If only I were back at Odeon Chapel- bent-backed over studies. 

If only Fwahe were here. Kos most merciful, if only Fwahe were here. 

What a stupid thing to wish for. Even if my dearest friend were here, my companion who Alois tortures had caused me to forget and neglect- she would never recognize me. I was a crow in church men’s clothing- a monster. I was much closer to a proper meal- a bird to be gutted, plucked and roasted over a spit. 

Still I wanted. Still I prayed. Fwahe come take me away from this horrible place and these horrible people. I prayed over the Litch queen’s meal and begged Kos, Odeon, Eribetas and ever-watchful Amygdala, all of the gods I knew to send me a savior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think- not sure if anyone's still interested in this one.


	12. Please Take Them Off

All through the night I forsook my own instincts. If I heard something I did not turn towards it. My ears could no longer be trusted. The whispers in my head had caused me to blindly swing through the overgrowth. I cut down rotted vines, which turned to dust at the first touch. Dead tree branches snapped between the sharpened steel, but the more I cut the louder the whispers became. Despite the urge to fight the very ground we tread, I left the sword strapped over my shoulder. Like an itch I wasn’t supposed to scratch I longed to wield it again. 

I had to cede sensibility to the cosmic stag. It had tried to kill me before, but it did not hear the whispers of my strange sword in its ears. The animal was like an arrow, launched straight and true. I had no need to navigate, for if we deviated from the path it found its way back without the slightest problem. I suppose a creature from the stars knows how to navigate with them. 

The forest was thick, and while it did not appear to contain any beasts within it, the foliage itself was preadtor. Everything had thorns or barbs. Despite the cosmic stags moderate pace and careful steps, we were being torn to shreds. The feathers on my cape were being pulled apart, leaving empty spaces for the spiked vines to scratch at. Barbs plummeted from trees, the ground carpeted in their hollow casks. When the deer leapt its leg propelled the pointed devils up at me. They stuck in my legs, leaving small pin-prick holes when I pried them free. The process of their removal came at the price of my fingertips. They too were poked through with holes. 

The drops of silver blood I spilled mingled with stars leaking from the flanks of the cosmic deer. Together on the ground they left a sparking trail. We carried on through the scathing boughs until the stag stopped short. It gave a snort and I peered into the shadows to see what had cause for a sudden halt. I squinted and strained but no matter what angle I tried the result was the same. The landscape had gone wrong. It was moving. 

It was buzzing. 

Huge black masses ebbed and flowed. They stood out darker then the trees. The sky was still nowhere to be seen, not so much as a shred of the shining silver had been able to break through the canopy. The wrongness came closer, and as it did I heard the buzzing. I thought it was just more whispering, some new annoyance my brain had cooked up to drive me towards madness with increasing haste. It was at the moment when the cosmic stag’s ears flickered up that I realized the beast could hear it too. 

I was not imagining things. 

He took a step back, pressing thorns into our backs. I had no desire to ride into the mass either, but tapped my heels to his sides. We had to forge ahead. Frigga was running out of time with every moment we delayed. 

We started down a hill and the clouds were upon us. Thousands upon thousands of wretched things descended upon us. Flies. They’d been flies. 

Far off the buzzing had been bearable, but now that they were sitting on my skin, crawling into my nostrils and nesting in my hair it was torture. The flies were so loud I couldn’t think. I dare not speak lest their putrid bodies fill my mouth. The cosmic stag tossed his head back and forth, shaking drove after endless drove of the insects from his mantle. It never lasted for the moment a score of them were loosed fourscore took their place. I brushed my arms clean again and again. They became streaked with the black blood of the tiny creatures, like war paint. 

There was no way for me to see where I was going. I don’t imagine my mount had any more luck with it. I could feel their intrusive little legs crawling all over me. Their bites itched and soon a line of angry red were poking through the back swamp of insect guts. They were sculpting islands on my skin. 

I tried to get the stag to go faster, but there were flies in its all-seeing eyes. The tiny creatures wanted to swallow the stars. My mounts eyelashes could not flick them away fast enough and he was soon as blind as I. I fumbled for the handle of my sword, hesistant to withdraw it but desperate for the extra light. Bugs coated the glowing beacon the Rabbit Prince had lent us, and blotted all the shining fur of the great animal. I did not think they would let my blade stay blank long, yet every little glow helped. 

Who was it to be this time? The boy’s prayers or the whisper’s commands? 

I was unable to discover the truth for myself, as the moment my hand was crushing the flies perched on the sword’s hilt, we plunged into freezing water. The cosmic stag let out a screech of terror, and a flash of light left its maw. For a brief moment I could see that we had fallen into a raging current, and only across miles of water lay our mark. Crumbling islands woven together by ancient sorcery had once been a bridge between our side of the shore and the rolling foothills of a great mountain stronghold. Standing against the silver sky was the blackened spires of an ancient castle. Something about it was deeply familiar, like the tune from a song lost to memory. In viewing it I could almost hear the words. 

The freezing water soon stole all of the attention. Torrents pulled at the stags legs and he was submerged so deeply that I could feel the chill well up on my waist. I tried to pull back, so that we might reverse onto the shore. However much the flies stung they’d be preferable to a watery grave. 

“Come on!” I shouted, tapping the stag’s sides with my heels. 

All I got was a mouthful of flies. 

The stag’s nostril’s flared and he swung his head from side to side, trying to make headway in any direction. I could feel him sliding on the slick pebbles that composed the riverbed. He couldn’t get any traction and I feared he would soon fall. I did not want to be drowned along with him. 

“Come on!” I pleaded. 

The current took us in a spray of white foam. We were swept downstream, and the stag did not have strength enough to dig in his hooves and hold the course. I felt myself turning sideways, still stuck in the spider silk saddle. 

I tried to grab hold of something to put myself right again. There was nothing to latch onto in the raging river. I was plunged beneath the water. As much as the bites stung my skin the freezing current burned my nose, my eyes, my throat. All of it was pounding the breath right out of me, stealing my speech and sight. It threatened to tear my away from the deer. 

I clung to his neck with all the strength I had left, unwilling to let go of the Rabbit Prince’s gift. The water was a death shroud, dark and cold, sealing the both of us inside. I’d never known water so deep, and so confusing I could not find the way up. How was one to break out of a coffin if lid and lining looked the same. 

We slammed into rocks and the roots of enormous trees. They fed us mouthfuls of grisly pebbles and damp earth. No matter what I scraped against I was carried away before I had the chance to grab ahold of it and make my way out of the river’s course. 

The flies and their blood were all washed away. If I were to perish beneath these waters at least my corpse would be clean. 

In another moment they were swept away from the star too, and the water went white. The only darkness left was the smooth pebbles below us. I could feel the stag’s muscles churn as it stretched it’s great neck, straining to break through the surface and breathe again. I clung to the slick fur as best I could, but felt myself slipping. The creature was in such a concern to save itself there was no concern for its rider and just as it’s hind hooves were pushing up from the ever-shifting ground, I fell away. My arms were not strong enough. 

The stag broke free of the churning river, while I was thrown against the rocks. The light was leaving along with the crown of antlers. Try as I might I lacked the strength to stand. The waters were too strong. They pinned me down with the raw power of natural gods. These were things too strong to be resisted. 

My clothes were so heavy. I was weighed down with the cape of black feathers, and the chains that echoed my duty now held me prisoner. I couldn’t move my arms let alone free my sword. There was too much water in my lungs, they screamed as though full of hot coals. No one had told me death was going to hurt this much. 

The only thing with the power to move me was the same thing keeping me prisoner. Another flush of water unpinned me and I was once more spiraling down stream. I wanted to close my eyes, they burned as bad as my lungs, but I was powerless to close them. The pressure kept them open. I was tossed down the river. My back crashed into enormous rocks, the next moment my stomach was slammed by a fallen tree. I could feel the sodden bark crumble away in my hands. The wood had rotted through to its core. 

All of it came away like powder, but that didn’t stop me from trying. I scraped at that log, fingers punching through the log until it was nothing but dust. It did not stop me. All it did was fill my eyes with tiny things I could not wash away. 

Pain came out in a burst of bubbles when I was thrown into yet more boulders. This one was covered in tendrils of something, roots or grass or moss I did not know. All I was certain of was that they wound about me like ropes and I was able to pull myself at last above the surface with them. My arms quickly started to shake from the effort of keeping my head above water. The rock was not a large one and the fistfuls of long grass were already tearing away. 

I took in as much breath as I could. My hair was plastered to my skin, sticky and slick. I wanted to brush it away but didn’t dare risk loosing my grip. The rapids pressed against my legs which slid on the sands below, unable to find surer footing. 

Looking around I could not find the deer, nor the castle from before. All that exsisted was the endless river. At this point it might’ve been a sea. I didn’t know how men made determinations of such things. 

The second my thoughts went to the senseless the roots broke away. I screamed in frustration seconds before I fell beneath the waves again. I was plunged into a cloud of bubbles and taken further and further from the shore. 

For a terrible moment the ground fell away, and the water was gone. Everything was a rush of air, frigid gusts that I could not explain. I was falling. It felt like the self-same god that had been kicking me down the river had suddenly flung me over the edge of the world and was waiting to see what happened. Reality was not so dramatic. The river had gone over a rise, and I was hurled down to water and rocks a moment later. 

I hit hard. There was a snap that filled my ears louder than the pouring water. My back went flat and rigid, crushed against the water-smoothed rock I landed on. I was afraid I’d shattered my spine, too terrified to move lest I make things worse. Gallons of water spilled over and soaked me. I didn’t know Vilebloods could get this cold, we were supposed to have tougher skin then this. 

I tried to still my breathing, smooth out my thoughts until the knots of worry went away. My chains were still secured. I could feel the heft of the sword over my shoulders. I had not lost it. Tentatively I reached out to check for other things, and found that my knives were in their sheaths. For what it may be worth I was armed and capable of moving both shoulders, both wrists and all ten fingers. 

I couldn’t take the fountain on my face forever, and temporarily putting my concerns aside I curled forward, waiting to see if my spine would follow my intentions. I was able to sit up, and I saw that the snapping sound which has terrified me was merely an old branch I’d fallen on which had broken on impact. 

I knew my legs were too shaky to stand on. They shook like autumn leaves, ready to tumble to the ground. I had to keep them attached. Before setting to the task I adjusted the sodden cape of feathers around my shoulders. I would take whatever cover I was allowed. My fingers were no warmer than any other flesh, but I tried using them to work some feeling back into my legs, massaging calves and thighs, desperate to feel something of my own strength again. Little by little I regained it. 

When at last I could stand I took stock of my landing site. To either side were great white curtains of foam, pouring down with thundering wails. Here and there chunks of ice went plummeting over the edge, exploding where they met jutting cliffside. I was in the middle of a mountain, with no path on either side to free me from the icy blanket pouring over me. There were not more than five steps available to me in any given direction. One more step and I would fall over the edge. 

I could see salvation, unreachable though it might be. Snow-covered pines waited in forested ground across the flowing borders. Icicles glistened from the bottom most branches. Little by little this world was surrendering itself to winter. I hadn’t realized the season had arrived. Time had grown strangely stagnant to me once the white blindness had taken my Frigga. The trees were bare, which should’ve been as sure and clear a warning as any- but in my ignorance I had thought the world capable of mourning. If she was to crumble and sicken so too should the world. 

Nothing worked that way, time moved ever onwards. Now it seemed that the season’s chill would incase me in icy prison. Would she ever be well enough to look for me in winterglass coffin? 

Of course not. 

I could not count on anyone to rescue me, though I wished it ever so. It would be so much easier if I could just lie down and wait. I kept checking the trees, hoping to see the cleric boy come back from the dead, or one of the laughing children in animal masks. Where was anything? On this side of the river not even the flies came. 

The cold stayed their stinging bites and while I was covered in raised bumps I could not feel them itch. I suppose there was one thing to be said in winter’s favor. 

I couldn’t help but feel ashamed to have wasted the Rabbit Prince’s gifts. If only I’d clung to the cosmic stag a little tighter. I hoped the creature had made it out of the rapids safe. Despite its earlier attempts to slay me the beast had served me well in the woods. Perhaps Elahrair-Rah had spoken true and it was the sort of creature that lived by the morals of its master. I couldn’t really blame it for that. 

“Oh, church boy.” I said, trying to speak over the roaring water, “If there was ever a time for you to pray for me…” 

Everything else I wanted to say to him but wasn’t able to got caught in my throat. I was shocked to find my cheeks were moist and my eyes set to furiously blinking. Tears spilled without my leave as I was flooded, back pounded with never ending current. I wanted Kohso. I wanted Frigga. I wanted to be home and safe and warm. 

Instead I was going to freeze, alone and shivering imprisoned by forces I could not possibly oppose. At this point was it better to wait for the frost to take me, or jump from the precipice and have it over with good and fast? 

Better to have it be the sword. Who knows how long the frosts would take, or whether the rocks would actually smash me to pieces. With my own hilt in my own hands I could be sure that this was the end, and that it would be done quick and clean. Kohso’s church thought this one of the ultimate sins, the act of self-removal. It was often heralded as a selfish thing, but in this pox-ridden world who was left to feel its sting? 

Frigga would be there soon. Perhaps I would be able to see her ascend, catch a glimpse of her curls as Kohso offered her his hand to escort her to greener pastures. That’s where she belonged, forever free to pick wildflowers and dance when music took her. Sunset evenings, wild strawberries- all the spoils of a proper summer were hers to hold. So long I had wanted to bend the knee or have the church boy bow before his alters and lift up sweet words to gain god’s favor for my own benefit, but now I wished only for her safe journey to sanctuary. 

The hilt of the Holy Moonlight Sword was colder then ice in my hands. By Kos, they were shaking. I couldn’t remember the last time it had been cold enough for them to do that. I’d never been particularly afraid of death but now that I was holding the instrument of my own destruction I was hesitant to strike the first key. 

He had pulled this sword from a hundred other dead man’s weapons. He’d spoken of glorious battle and holy men. Even at the edge of the world that stupid idealistic cleric had thought that crusaders were noble and ritcheous. They were the same warmongering rapists as every army had ever been, the only difference was that their tunics bore crosses where others held heraldry. Cast to the ground in a pile, they all looked the same. 

The swords whispers had gone silent. The blade had drunk all of the blood and had come up dry. I wondered if I would still have the sentience to see it glow once more before I passed. To have it be green and bless me or red and terrify. That would be the last mystery in my life, the final question. 

I wanted a clean blade. It wouldn’t do for that murder’s blood to stain this sword- not now. I went to the falls to wash it off. The churning current would surely pound away any dry and crusty pockets of old blood. 

Much to my surprise the sword went straight through the curtain of falling water. There was no rock wall beyond, all this time I had been sulking at the mouth of a cave. I hurried inside, chasing away the dreary commitments with every footstep. Opportunity had a way of dispelling grief. I held up my cloak, blocking what I could of the deluge before crossing over the mouth of the cave. The sound of the crashing river echoing in the cavernous space was like a language long dead. I knew none of the words, but what resounded in my ears made me feel as if I were being judged by unseen audience. 

It was warmer inside the cave. The earthen walls blocked the chilling wind, if nothing else. I expected it to be dark, but sprouting up from the ground were luminous white crystals. They produced more then enough light to see by. Like a naughty child, I could not resist touching them. They did not produce any kind of warmth as a candle or fire might, but my fingertips came away dusted with stars. The crystals fractured easily. 

I plucked a handful of smaller samples and crushed them, patting the powder into my crowfeather cape. . If Elhrair-Rah had taught me anything, it was to never be without stars. I did not want to be stuck in darkness again. Would that I had something to serve as a binder, for I would’ve painted my own skin with the glowing dust as well. 

The cave stretched out a good ways behind me. I had to hope that there would be some opening on the other side, or an offshoot that ran upwards to fresh air again. I had no hope of escaping the falls. With the crystals and my glittering cloak to guide me, I set forth into the belly of an unknown beast. 

It seemed that someone had been here before me. I decided to take it as a good sign. There were foot prints on the dusty floor, bare just like mine and nearly the same size. Some places along the wall had been carved smooth. These areas were decorated with tiny pictures. 

At first I didn’t think much of them. They were rough, nothing more then scribbles. Given that I had no particular inclination towards the delicate art it seemed about even with what I might have done when given a wall to paint on-if not perhaps a little better. 

There were catalogs of a thousand stories. Simplified human forms were the most common motif, and each of them was painted slightly different from the others. One wore a necklace of blue dots, another had a few twirling lines in place of hair. As minimal as they were, each was different from its brothers and sisters. 

It wasn’t until I saw one draped with strings of teeth that I realized these were people I knew. There was one with glasses, holding a book. It was Templeton. The next held a dripping bloody heart and was painted with a wide grin. It was Shid’he. Tiro was there, the foolish Sterling and the twins Sage and Salem. I wanted to lunge forward and find Frigga and Kohso. They were so lost to me in life, it was as though if I could see them on the wall then they might be here with me. 

I passed by line after line, figure after figure. Lord Gaines the just. Alfred the traitor. There were a dozen or so boys with inverted crosses on their chests. I could not recall the names of the individuals, but the Altered Boys in their collective were a welcome sight. 

The more I looked the more I noticed. 

Many of the people I would consider friends were kept to the same side of the cave, while those figures whose recognition was hazy in my brain swelled on the opposite. I kept going, trying to puzzle it out. I wanted to run, for those I held dearest might be just behind the next crystal, just around the next bend in the cave. 

It was like being shot in the head, the explosive realization that at last dawned on me. The old man, from the road was waiting on the side densely packed with foreign figures. That was the side of the slaughtered, all of those who I had slain to keep myself fed. Kos above, there were thousands of them, and now it seemed they were chasing me. 

The water tumbling from the rocks, echoing in the caves became their screams. The arms of the drawings began to move. A thousand thousand little charcoal fingers were coming at me in a rush, bellowing in agony as they raced to make shadows along the walls. My heart raced, and I began to run. 

I tired to tell myself that they were only drawings, and could not hurt me. 

I did not belive me, for what drawings could get up and move? 

What drawings could scream? 

Walking across the ground I had felt nothing, but in my headlong rush the sand below scraped at the soles of my feet. They were frozen and cracking, the abrasive ground rubbing away all the hard-won callouses and doing their best to make me bleed. 

If the cave walls were any indication there had been enough blood. I ran through rooms full of glowing crystals, so bright they could blind. I ran through rooms of complete darkness, where I would’ve been lost had it not been for my coated cape. There were places so narrow I had to stop and squeeze through sideways. Eyes wide with horror, I slid along the wall, looking into the screaming faces of the murdered men and women. 

They didn’t seem as simple as they had before. Now there were dashes of red to tint eye, lip and cheek. Fingers, perfectly rendered clawed at vacuous open throats, trying to close up the wound and keep in blood that was not there. I had taken it all, stolen it from them so that I might live. Does that mean they deserved to haunt me? 

Were hunters met with caves full of beasts? 

Did farmers receive the same from their sows, their steers? What made my sins so different? 

Those were the arguments I used to try and comfort myself in moments of weakness. Sometimes I would catch a reflection, walk past a mirror, and all I could see was the shape of a monster. I bore scars on my face, and at times they became a mask. It wasn’t uncommon for me to forget what I was beneath it. 

These visions were awful. I wanted to clog my ears with cotton, and shut my eyes. 

The side full of friends had run out. I had missed Frigga. I had missed Kohso. I was so caught up in myself they had been left behind, and now both sides of the cave were swarming with angry corpses. They began to twist into horrible shapes, bending backwards to skitter over the walls like spiders. Their limbs melted along the floor so that they might slide across it like snakes. 

The screaming was so loud now. 

They were closing in on me. My feet were a half-step behind the desperate fingers. Was it possible they could reach out from the wall and grab me. I wasn’t going to take my chances finding out. If I fell to one they would all be upon me. The sword would’ve been better then getting trapped here. I had to keep moving. 

The cave got warmer as I fled down its many tunnels. What had started as a pleasant barrier from the chill had slowly deepened into the comfortable warmth one might expect from crackling fireplace. The problem came when the screaming started, for then it was if the fire had escaped its boundary and broken free of safety grate to spread through the walls of the house. 

My hair was no longer matted and damp. All of my skin had gone dry, and what was once cracking with cold now blistered with heat. When the ground sloped downward I got the idea that I might be running straight through to the center of the world where the core of mankind’s problems churned and bubbled in eternal turmoil. If I slipped into molten disaster I would never come out again. This world had stripped away everything from me, and now there was only the demons on the wall. My whole being had come away to charcoal lines. Paint strokes. Was I naught but the vision of some cosmic artist, who found pleasure in staining canvas with my struggles? 

I refused to believe it so, though they came for me faster and faster. The drawings began to merge together, melting into fearful creatures. The ceiling was nothing but eyes, the floor nothing but teeth. This was so much worse than running from Moto Majii and his beetles. I had always been certain that a creature could be killed, but these were not flesh and blood. 

I didn’t stop to free one of the blades from my belt. I feared the time it would take to slip a knife from its sheath. A thousand things could go wrong and each one of them held the potential of a lost second. That was all I had ahead of them, seconds. 

I ran through dark rooms and light rooms and rooms that were inbetween. It was only when I entered the first furnished room that I realized they were rooms at all, carved out perfectly square by hands that did not belong to nature. The mystery of it bulged in my brain but I did not stop to consider it. All the sharp and straight walls meant to me was more surface area, more drawings. Scribbled spine twisted into sharpened fingers which dug spiked claws into the shoulder of yet more drawings until the linework formed a hulking beast. It shook off the excess, those superfluous sketches that did not aid its form, then released the worst scream yet. 

The ceiling shook. 

Crystals plummeted from on high, acting as drills in the straight edged floors. The shards of sky reigned down from the heavens and pierced the waiting mouths below. 

To my surprise they retreated. When on the walls they could go around the crystals, but a direct hit seemed to diminish them. It made sense that demons could not live amongst the stars. 

I curled my fingers around the next crystal within reach and snapped it free of its mooring. At last I had a weapon. The giant was charging for me, a half-step faster then the smaller reaching hands were. I tossed the sharpened rock over my shoulder. It didn’t have far to fly before it struck the beast directly in its wailing mouth. The rock went right through, skewering teeth, tongue and throat as well as the flesh beyond that. The drawings did not exist to the stars, but the stars existed to the drawings. 

Whenever I could manage to reach one of the rocks I gained another weapon. Like Molotov cocktails I tossed them behind me, almost without a care. So long as they hit something it was one less scream. Eventually I be able to hear again. 

When at last they ceased screeching the only sound was my bare feet on the tunnel floor. The rooms were still perfectly hewn squares, with low passages to either side. These I had to stoop and crawl through, scraping my elbows and knees. They had smoothed the chambers to a perfect flatness, but the spaces between were left rough and uneven. I couldn’t imagine how or why. 

The furniture inside the rooms was not the kind I would’ve thought matched the hasty renderings. These were things that would’ve graced the throne rooms of the king’s castle, been fainted on by ladies in waiting in the palaces of frith. All was quilted leather, curving polished wood and crushed velvet. The embroidery was so small and intricate it looked like they’d hired spiders to do the sewing. Having ridden in a saddle fashioned by one I knew them to be creatures of respectable talent. 

I didn’t want to stop. The heat was making me break out in a sweat. I would’ve thrown aside the cape if not for the light it gave. It sat as a heavy burden on my shoulders but I would take it with me until it caught fire and left me no choice, though I did hope it would never come to that. 

I didn’t want to stop, but I was leaving silver-blood trails on clean floors. I could not continue to crawl through tiny tunnels, for my head was beginning to swim. In the next room there was a love seat and two armchairs. The prospect of lying down was luxury in and of itself, and so I stretched my bruised body across the curved arms and sloped feet of the chair, letting the pressure drain out of my legs. They ached, at last able to vent their frustration with me. 

It seems that no part of me survived this without injury. I’d lost the ability to catalog the topology of my own ravaged skin. There were discolored patches whose origin and cause I could not place. Was that a bite from the blood flies, or a bit of a scar from the rock wall? Had the river made my limbs sore or was it the marathon I had just run? 

Trying to catalog it all became confusing, and I realized shortly thereafter that making sense of anything was pointless. The wounds stung the same regardless of recollections. I let the pressure of marking my own journey fall away, surrendering to the siren song of a moments rest. As tired as I was, the leather sofa was hot on my back and I knew I could not sleep there. The tanned and stretched skin made material, skin of a long dead creature used my sweat as a binder to attach itself pore by pore to my own. I could not allow us to become inseparable. 

Sitting up was an agony but I managed to curl my body upwards. I groaned at the sting of a thousand tiny scars. Someone had possessed the forethought to leave throw pillows behind and I tore strips of expensive satin from their covers to wrap around my feet. It felt wrong. 

Too close to shoes. 

Too close to socks. 

I hated the both of them. It had been so long since I’d had to force my feet into the pinched prisons of polite society. My own strength had always been enough to win out over the various terrain I need tread. These trials were taking everything out of me. If they could steal my strength could they also pluck the heart from my chest? Would the thoughts be cut out of my head to adorn their walls? If my memories could be stretched and framed for others to look at, was there any part of me left as my own? 

My mind was unfit to sort out such questions. Not here and now. As I attended my foot I realized the glow from my cape seemed to be fading. Looking at the crystals on the wall I saw that they too had begun to dim. I made faster motions and sacrificed my own pain in favor of speed. Knots were pulled hastily, hard and tight over tender flesh in an effort to get myself moving. 

Once I was satisfied that the bindings would work as a temporary elevation, I hurried onwards. The crystals and my cloak continued to dim while I went through the rooms. Gone were the tiny tunnels. I came into a room with a checkered floor of polished marble. There was nothing inside of it, no furniture or pillows. There were no tunnel openings on the left or right walls, which were painted a robin’s egg blue. 

The only thing to be remarked upon was the enormous green velvet curtain which dominated the far wall. I did not know if it were painted the same color as the others for the curtain spanned the entire space and unless I approached and moved it aside it would remain covered. 

In stories of folk heroes these kinds of things were traps, and I thought of all the horrible things that might be waiting for me beyond the fabric. The cave had already proved itself a nightmarish place. Perhaps the smartest course of action would be to turn around and go back the way I had come, search the tunnels for a path that I had missed in my haste to escape the things that chased after me. 

Smart, but impossible. There was no way I was walking through that again. I was not confident that my crystal-throwing had killed every last one of the screamers. If there was the slightest chance that one was left living I would avoid them in every way I could. 

So it was left to the curtain. I took a step towards it and it seemed to stretch, taller and higher then it had been when I first entered the room. The illusion persisted. The closer I drew the larger it became. Fabric that had one seemed to be pliable, became more like concrete when I was at last close enough to put my fingers upon its damask print. I was not sure I had the strength to move it. 

The folds were heavy and rough. What I had first thought to be velvet turned out to be worsted wool. I gathered what I could, letting my fingernails burrow themselves into the woven material before throwing all of my strength against the drapery. The metal rings which held it on some unseen rod squealed in protest as the curtain began to move. 

It was as heavy as I feared. The wrappings on my feet which had seemed solid a moment ago now seemed to have loosened and caused me to slide around on the polished floor. They were as bad as socks. 

Even if my feet had come through unscathed, I wouldn’t have been able to make much progress on the great beast of a curtain. It was simply too heavy. I lay down on the floor, barely having moved the mass an inch and let my chest rise and fall. The cave was the cruelest prison imaginable, for every second I spent resting here was one lost to aiding Frigga’s survival. 

The Rabbit Prince had said she was alive, that she could hold out. Had he known I would fall to this? How much had Elahrair-Rah and his Owsla forseen? I was sure that the Rabbit Prince had more tricks up his sleeve then he was willing to admit too. 

Lying down was uncomfortable. This floor did not embrace me as the couch had. All of my chains, my sword and knives pressed into my skin at irritating angles. 

Of course. 

What a fool I had been to try and move that curtain. There was no need for me to move the thing if I could simply slice it in half. My own stupidity had been my jailer. I quickly rose from the floor and unsheathed one of my twin blades. I pounded the sharpened edge through to the other side of the curtain and began to wrench back and forth, sawing away at the fibers. It was no easy task, for the curtain was strong and did not yield easy. I had to go millimeters at a time, but it was cutting. 

It would’ve made more sense to use the sword. I knew that, but I didn’t want to bring the holy blade to play down here. Without blood the cosmic light would not emit from the sharpened steel, but still I feared. If there was the slightest chance that the church boy’s eyes could see this place I would not take it. He did not need to see what I had seen, I would never subject him to such horrors. 

Wherever his resting place it must’ve been light and warm. The Healing Church and its many clerics tended to warn of horrible fates. That is what they had always done when I’d seen them on their soapboxes in the square. I could not remember a time when they had talked about the nicer things that waited for those who followed their rules. Kohso would’ve known. It had to have been a nice place for him to want it so bad. 

When I’d made a sizable hole in the curtain, light and air began to come through. The wind was cold, and felt like heaven on my burning skin. As the hole widened I could see the black trees beyond it. The outdoor world was waiting, I had found it at last. I hacked away with greater fury, and when the knife did not cut fast enough, I sheathed it and tore at the cloth until there was a hole big enough to fit through. 

It was worse then tumbling from tangled blankets, and more akin to what I imagine being born had felt like, escaping that tiny opening. I got stuck a few times, which forced me to shifty myself until I could grab for the knife and free myself from the awkward position. I worked until at last I stood on earth, amongst a forest. 

The pines that closed in around me were too dense to see through. I did not know where I was, but the delight at being free of the wretched caves was so great that I didn’t care. As long as the howling of charcoal demons did not clog my ears I would settle for being lost. 

Sooner or later all lost things found their way again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think, and thank you for reading!


	13. I Want

The Litch Queen washed silver blood off her lips, with red from my wounds. What had collected in the bowl pleased her. I was sure she was next to reach up and tear off one of my limbs, but she didn’t. She left me to hang and to bleed, her hunger temporarily sated. My head pounded, a combination of nerves and blood loss.

               It was only a matter of time before she changed her mind and decided I was worth eating again.

               The Litch Queen held her blood covered hands out to Alois. The Vileblood knight dropped to her knees and kissed the ancient wings on the skeletal woman’s fingers. Now both of them were stained with my blood. I had never been the kind of person to snatch away my things, hoarding them and refusing to share, but as my stomach began to throb from the pain of my wounds I wanted to take my blood back. It was mine. I needed it.

               My speech was useless crowing again. They laughed at me.

               “Did he really believe you were going to help him?” The Litch Queen asked.

               Alois nodded. “He proved surprisingly useful.”

               “How clever of you to think to use him as shield against the advances of your ravenous bretheren.” The Queen commended.

               “Kane’s intentions had always been known to me.” Alois explained, “But I would never indulge him. Unsatisfied he grew angry. You would be surprised how hard it was to fine whores in the world beyond, but at last I discovered something for him to fuck.”

               Alois spat out the last syllable. A gob of moisture landed on what was left of her brother’s corpse. She spoke with open disdain for him, now that he had disgraced her. I doubted that Kane’s body had even gone cold and she had already distanced herself.

               The Queen nodded, “What of this world? The one I have come into.”

               Alois went for the window, looking out beyond stone frame to the landscape I could not see. My head simply would not turn far enough. The bindings were too tight. I hoped the Litch Queen might return to her throne, thus forcing her knight to describe what there was to be seen. I wanted to know too. I wasn’t going to make it out of here alive, but I wanted to try and find something- just one thing to be grateful for. I was alive again, pulled out of deaths embrace by more my own efforts then anyone elses.

               I had done it all for the wrong reasons, in service of a vengeful and cunning mistress, but I still found it impressive. Not even the great matyrs and masters of Healing Church past had managed to gain dominion over death. None of them had surpassed the grave.

               Or else maybe they had.  I wasn’t going to be able to sit down at a desk with a quill and pot of ink and record my findings. No one would remember that I had crossed from one existence to another, no one would care. It didn’t matter that I had split the mirror, that I had pulled Alois up a mountain or that I had crawled half he way here and still survived. Her mouth was the one that would speak of me, if ever the story of her return was told. Judging by how much kindness was shown a corpse of her own species and bloodline, I doubted I’d be painted with any dignity.

               Perhaps best I never be mentioned at all then spoken about in a way that might shame the church. What I wouldn’t give to be back amongst clerics again. I couldn’t believe I had once complained that I found the study of healing plants to be boring. I had actually wanted for excitement, holy war and struggle against sin. Foolish youth, to not know what I had until it was gone.

               Alois wasn’t the type to grant last requests.

               Kos, give me a last request all the same. Just let me be a foolhardy novice again. Just five more minutes before they rip open my stomach and drink all my blood.

               I’d never get that. It would be a miracle if I were even allowed last words.

               The Litch Queen joined Alois at the window and surveyed the landscape with her.

               “Vast.” She assessed.

               Alois nodded confirmation, “It’s all ripe for the taking.”

               “We shall need an army.” Annalise replied, “This world is different then I remembered, but power is the currency of every continent and I intend to be rich.”

               “Yes, your majesty.” Alois said,  “If that’s what you need I shall find you the greatest army in history.”

               The skeletal woman chuckled. It had all the unctuous tones of bubbling mud, a sickening sound to swallow. She patted Alois on the head. Never before had the Lady seemed such a child, but with that gesture I could see the bony fingers closing around Alois’ mind as a cage. She was as devoted to the Litch Queen as I had been to her.

               “You need not experience such tedious searching, my faithful one. My time away was not spent suffering, but learning from the expansive library of creation. Now that I am of the earth again I can raise up armies like you’ve never seen. Forget flesh and blood these will be creatures of magic and bone. There is nothing on earth that can undo them, they will be unkillable.”

               Alois’ eyes went wide, picturing the glory of it all. The shiver that ran over my body shook my bonds and earned me glares from the both of them. I strained to steady myself. Old blood sloshed and enveloped a fountain of new. I was still leaking. Kos, how long would it take before there was nothing left?

               “When?” Alois asked.

               “Patience, patience my child.” The Litch Queen cautioned. “I must steep in the air of the living, wait for my full strength to return to me. I will not take this world back looking like a corpse….nor either should you.”

               A bony finger indicated the Vileblood knight’s missing eye. Alois’ hand instantly went to cover the gaping hole. Her face flushed and she dropped the Queen’s gaze.

               “What happened?” she asked.

               “It was stolen.” Alois replied.

               She took a few steps away from the Queen. Kane’s bones lay in shattered fragments over the stairs. Alois kicked them and they crumbled to powder.

               “Was it Kane’s doing?” Annalise persisted.

               “No.” Alois sighed, pushing aside the debris she made and sitting on the stairs to the throne. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, rather then staying in its designanted space. It was the closest to dishevelment she had come. “It was stolen.”

               The Litch Queen rested a hand on Alois’ shoulder, giving up the window and all my hopes of seeing the world beyond. “What could’ve possibly stolen it?”

               Alois began to explain things about Fwahe, things that even I hadn’t known. Fwahe had been some kind of spirit, conjured by a hedge witch called Renet. After the fall of Cainhurst she had haunted and plagued Alois while the girl ran to escape the Executioner’s raids. Fwahe was able to manifest as all sorts of nightmarish creatures while she sought Alois body.

               The Vileblood Knight had already undergone a fair amount of trauma as she escaped her burning homeland, and could not hold out against Fwahe forever. When the spirit promised to leave her if Alois would only cut out her own eye so that she could devour it, the knight refused. She was horrified and took up all manner of prevention, using charms and salt circles, anything that might deter Fwahe.

               The spirit kept the knight on the run, until at last she had been chased right into the clutches of the hedge witch. The way Alois told it made it seem as though Fwahe had truly been an agent of Renet, but I had head this portion from her directly- and she was as much a prisoner as I. Renet longed to conjure a child of the gods and planned to use both as potential wombs.

               She kept them impaled on the walls of her cave, which were constructed of thorns and burs. Several dozen other corpses were strung there, dried and rotting while the brambles continued to grow. They had thorns protruding through the empty sockets of their eyes, leaves spilling from their mouths. The hedge witch carved symbols into their skin, cutting up lumps of dead flesh for her wicked works.

               Fwahe, seeking the additional will to escape and having spent hours in the witch’s keep listening to her spells. She learned a lot in that time, and had discovered why the Hedge Witch was quick to pluck the eyes from her victim. In all ancient blood magic that was where the soul lay, and if one could take it then one could borrow its strength.

               In her desperation for freedom Fwahe became the monster Alois feared her to be, tearing one of the eyes out for herself and making a mad scramble through the knotted thorns to forever escape the witch’s clutches. She was riddled with scars as she scrambled through the hedging.

               The witch could not prevent Fwahe from leaving, but her rage was great, and so forever cursed the both of them, twisting their souls together into one. Their memories, lives, everything melted and stirred together until neither was fully themselves nor fully something merged together. Fwahe’s will was stronger, and managed to banish Alois to the realm of the dead. All of this had happened long before I met her.

               I was certain Fwahe hadn’t told me the complete truth, nor did I believe for a second that Alois’ account was correct.

               “And what became of the witch?” Annalise asked.

               “I ate her.” Alois said, “I locked my hands deep, deep in her shoulders and pulled her away from life as I fell to death. I thought her eyes might lend me strength but they made me sick. Her blood was as black as tar and her bones were spiked like the thorn palace she lived in, but I ate them all.”

               The Litch Queen nodded, “And would you recognize this Flightless Crow if you met her again?”

               “She would not remember me- but I could never forget her.” Alois said.

               I wouldn’t have been so sure about that if I were her.

               “I watched her life, she was attached to that crow-boy. They were companions.”

               “How could you resist slaying him?” The Queen questioned.

               “I maintained hope he might be used to trap her.” Alois replied.

               Annalise smiled. She lifted Alois’ chin in her hands so that the two once more held each other’s gaze, “Oh, my most loyal soldier, you were willing to sacrifice your chance at restoration so that I might have a filling meal. Your faith in me shall be well rewarded. I will help you catch this crow, and then, with you at my side- fully you without a twisted soul, we will reclaim the world.”

               Oh how Alois’ eyes sparkled now that her Queen had displayed an interest in her plight. The two of them fell to plotting Fwahe’s demise. I tried to listen but my senses were starting to go. Pain rocketed up my ribacage with every breath and as drop after drop of blood ran down to the bowl I felt light headed. The smell of it made me sick.

               “Please.”

               I tried it again. It was the faintest of caws, and it hurt my dry throat and strained neck to push the sound out. There were feathers growing on the inside. I could feel them rubbing against each other every time that I spoke.

               “He speaks again.” Annalise remarked.

               “Yes.” Alois agreed, “I will remove his tongue if you wish it.”

               Once more the skeletal fingers came down to pat Cainhurst’s favorite daughter on the head.  For those few seconds they were in contact the woman I knew washed away and I just saw a little girl. The vision sent a sharp pain clattering in my skull, like someone had tried to put a nail through the bone. I cried out and they complained of noise once more.

               That seemed all the prompting Alois needed to pull knife from her belt and make a step towards me.

               “Stay your hand.”

               Her response was instant. Alois’ body went rigid and the knife was angled out of an attackers’ positioning. She did not question, did not hesistate. She obeyed her Queen’s command. I saw before me what Alois had expected of Kane and I.

               “You said he could be useful for the capture of the Flightless Crow. We may need his voice for that.” Annalise said.

               “I don’t believe he’s capable of speech any longer.” Alois said, “The infection spread too far.”

               The Queen came over to me, walking with slow measured steps. The dying silk of her ancient dress swept the ground, stirring dust motes. She shook when she moved, bone clattering against bone so minimal was the magic and sinew that held her together. She had black sockets where her eyes should be, and I imagined that if I could part her ribs and see through her chest I would find a cavernous socket where her heart should’ve been- as dark and crusted as the eyes. She grinned and it was all perfect teeth- no lips.

               To say I was terrified would be selling terror itself short. I had never known a fear as this. If it didn’t strain my shoulders beyond the limits of my pain I would’ve turned away from her.

               “Kohso, of Odeon Chapel.” Annalise said.

               My name felt wrong on her tounge, as though pronounced by foreigner who had not bothered to learn the language of the land- and would never bother to. It was a piece of food that was the better for her to spit out, yet she kept at it until the syllables were stuck in her teeth and I had to watch them wiggle between incisors every time she opened her mouth.

               “It is hard to believe he is as pure as they say.” Annalise said.

               Alois nodded, ever in agreement with her Queen.

               The Litch placed her finger on my chin. It was freezing- and the warmth of my flesh stuck to it instantly, burning from the cold. This was not a winters chill, nor the sting of ice or frost but the feeling of un-life. Death itself was making me shake.

               “Do you know the gods themselves mourn your corruption little crow?” She asked. “Mother Kos has wept new seas because your mind, your devotion was taken from you. Do you even remember who you were named for?”

               I gritted my teeth and tore my chin away from her. It seemed to tear away the first layer of skin. I could feel my eyes watering, and though I didn’t want to cry in front of the undead horror, I feared it inevitable. I tried to still my fluttering heart and give answer to the wretched queen. I only managed a single nod. In return she gave me another smile, showing me all of her teeth.

               “She must be so disappointed to see how you ended up- when I am through with this world I will crumble the realms above too. I will pour barrels of salt into her precious seas and rot the queen of the ocean herself. If you’re still alive after her shriveled corpse washes ashore, perhaps I’ll allow you to bury her.”

               There was no vaudevillian laughter come at the end of her threat. The Litch Queen was a lot of things, but ridiculous did not appear to be one of them. She kept her dignity and the threat leveled was cold and genuine. I feared the hyperbole she spoke was to be taken for fact.

               It was hard to tell where exactly she was looking, but I knew that Annalise wasn’t blind. I could feel her looking me up and down, watching the flow of blood that ran from my wrists, down my arm and across my chest- bleeding from where my restraints held to hard. It was a hungry gaze, the same as when Kane had worn when he took me after lessons in the dark of night.

               “Is not forbidden fruit always the most aromatic?” The Litch Queen asked.

               She drug a finger over my chest, gathering a drop of blood while I shivered. Instead of consuming it herself, she dangled it above Alois. Alois’ eye focused on the wobbling pearl of liquid. It was kept away, hovering just centimeters beyond her lips. The Vileblood knight’s pupils dilated, her nostrils flared.

               “Yes, your grace.” She dutifully replied.

               The Queen ran her finger over Alois’ lips, before nodding to permit her a taste. The Vileblood Knight was eager to say the least.

               “In order to get your eye back, to properly return your soul we must steal all hope from the wretched creature.” The Queen continued, “What better way to do that, then to have her devour her dearest friend.”

               “Sweet indeed.” Alois agreed, “But will she believe that it’s him? He does not look himself.”

               The Queen nodded, and put her arm around Alois. They whispered to each other, words I strained to hear. I could not manage to make out a single one of what they shared with each other. I kept trying, the better to focus on their actions then the tightness in my chest. I would turn to coughing fits before long. They’d made me their chandelier, turned flesh to furniture. How long could they really expect me to keep breathing for?

               I was ready to give in, pray to Kos in stifled caws and croaks and ask her to send me back below. I’d been dead before, was I able to die again? Surely if I were able to bleed I was destined to run dry.

               I was trying to decide which of the songs I’d learned to sing as my last. There hadn’t been time to choose my last words on the lonely moor where I’d been slain. If I were to perish a second time I’d much rather have some say in the methodology.

               “Grab me some of his feathers.”

               These were the first words spoken at normal volume. The Queen gave orders and her loyal subject followed. I did my best to recoil as Alois approached me. The Chandilier apparatus rattled, chains shaking as they were thrashed. Nothing could break them. My wrists and ankles leaked even worse then before. My chest heaved.

               Concave.

               Convex.

               “You were more foolish then I could’ve ever dreamed.” Alois said to me. She was shorter then the Litch Queen, and had to strain to reach me.

               I thought she might have to ask for a chair. I really wanted her to have to have some special accomidations in order to complete her task. The both of them has become gods to me, their infallibility manifest in the shell of the world they laid claim too. Who was I to think to stop them? Who was I to try?

               The Vileblood Knight’s fingers found purchase in a clump of feathers on the back of my neck. Hair had once grown there, but it was all birds’ foliage now. I grit my teeth as she pulled. Fingers curled into fists and my palms were pierced by the claws that had replaced my nails. I screamed, and of course the sound was wrong. I heard it echoing back, and in this castle echoes grew where they should fade. Sound traveled up the the rafters, amplified and then came cackling back down.

               So much worse then pulling hairs was plucking feathers. Each left a red sore, throbbing in the place that it used to rest. More blood of course. The Litch Queen licked it off the tips of the retrieved feathers, as of scribe with quill. She set them down on the floor before her. In all Alois had grabbed five. It was hard to feel like she’d taken a real piece of me.

               I knew that hairs, skin and bone were often used in spells. Blood magic called for things like this and relied on powers dark and ancient and horrible to pull their twisted enchantments from. I’d been taught to avoid things like that. Clerical magic was not the bone and blood sort. Would feathers function the same as any part? They weren’t truly mine, if they were a result of an infection.

               Yet they were. I had grown them, and none could claim they belonged to any other bird. The spines, the shape and size were not like any beast of the sky that had yet been studied. These were my feathers, and now thy lay on the flagstones of a decades old castle while an ancient evil drew chalk circles and spoke incantations over them. The chalk lines started to billow smoke, great purple curls that grew in potency filling the room with the scent of burning wood and melting metal.

               The smoke tendrils carried the feathers aloft. They spiraled upwards until they came to hover just below the Vileblood knight’s eye level. They twisted, not sideways as of falling leaves and dancing petals, but straight up and down. Puppettered by invisible strings the feathers slowly rotated. They made several circuts. I did not keep a count bit it was likely, three or seven or nine, one of those numbers so oft used in spells.

               On the perfect numerical turn a white silk ribbon sprouted from the spine of each feather, blossoming in elegant swirls that slowly spiraled to the ground. Another burst of silk, coupled with black shoelaces and white eyelet lace twisted its way out of the feather. I recognized all of the materials at once, for these were the same things my clerics robes were fashioned from. I watched five perfect duplicates of the clothes I’d worn all of my life materialize out of thin air and feathers. They put the rags between my legs to shame.

               The robes spun around once complete, spiderwebs of black thread opening like flowers as it showered down and stitched through the delicate cloth, joining lace to cuff and embroidering the curved cross of my holy order onto the tabard.

               Gods. It even smelled right. I could breathe in the scent of study and school room. The chamber took on the scent of my own quarters, scrubbed with watered lemon juice and cloves. There was even the faint odor of peppermint and licorice- the tin under my bed stuffed with sweets. I held back tears as I inhaled it, and let them out when fingers began to crawl their way out of the sleeves.

               I blinked and in an instant five of me were blinking back. The Litch Queen had mirrored me in quintuplet.

               “Sing.” The Litch Queen said, issuing her command a moment after the five not-Kohsos’ sets of leather boots scraped the stone floor.

               “ _Will the circle be unbroken, by and by, by and by”_

               They sang. They sang my favorite hymn in a voice that did not belong to them while Alois and her Queen walked by them in a line inspecting each for imperfections. Five sets of twin dots under five sets of eyes. My eyes. My voice. My chorus.

               _“Is a better home a-waiting, in the sky, oh in the sky”_

I was desperate to know what they were for, the five that were not me. With my stolen voice and broken body I could not put voice to these queries, and let frustration consume me. They sang and spoke with my voices. When they finished my favorite ballad they sang a song of Cainhurst, of blood and blue-born glory. It was an ancient mournful song that brought a smile to the Litch Queen’s face.

               If there was any solace to be had, it was that Alois shared my confusion. She hid it well, constantly switching out masks to show Annalise the appropriate emotion, but as she turned there were little twitches in the tips of her fingers. They were constantly in motion, weaving together or pushing aside the tiniest strands of hair.

               I was starting to feel very heavy. The flesh on my wrists had come away more then I thought it was ever going too. Sometimes I was sure I could feel the metal against my bones. I wanted to check, like a baker with their oven I wanted to peek in and see how close to death I was. My neck had locked up, shoulders completely stiff. I could only keep staring forward, everything had seized. I hadn’t studied enough on the subject to know what state of decomposition this was, but I definitely didn’t think I was supposed to be sentient for it.

               “You still know the way to the dungeon?” Annalise asked.

               “Of course, your majesty.” Alois said.

               “Take him down and chain him there.” Annalise instructed, “I won’t need him until later- and he’s quite the eyesore.”

               “Yes, your majesty.” Alois said.

               There wasn’t the slightest twinge of disappointment in her voice when the Litch Queen dismissed the presentation the knight had worked so hard on. I knew that she’d chosen this pose for me in an effort to amuse her Queen yet she deconstructed it as though it were nothing. I wanted to put up some kind of resistance- to just once raise my hand against her and show full well that I remembered who I was. I didn’t want to seem a slave any longer.

               I made and broke a thousand promises before I hit the ground. She seemed to cut the chains all at once. I hit the stones hard, and could feel the shock passing through from my stomach to my skull. I tried to stand, but nothing would give the slightest wobble or shake. Everything had gone numb, fallen asleep. I was wracked by coughs that produced gobs of blood to fly from my throat.

               I had precious little to spare and now they’d taken more of it. Alois gave me a moment, prepared to let me collect myself if I must. Her queen was not so patient, and the sharp crack of bone fingers sliding against one another echoed through the rafters as she snapped them, and ordered me to my feet. How embarrassing that Alois had to help me.

               I couldn’t feel my legs. The most I could do was drape my arms over the Vileblood Knight’s shoulders. The metal that rested there, the plates of her armor were knives to my tender flesh. With every step they rattled and shook, vibrating my bones with pain enough to enduce whimpers. I coughed blood into her hair. What petty and pathetic revenge. She didn’t even interpret it as a malicious thing, carrying on with stalwart indifference. She had her oders to fill and was no stranger to blood.

               At least in the frigid dungeon beneath Cainhust castle I was allowed to sit. She each wrist, and they were held to long chains in the wall. My ankles met similar in the floor. It was enough that I could move, might’ve even been able to take a few paces if I could make myself stand- but I didn’t risk it.

               “Plenty of bleeders have died here.” Alois said to me, as she tested the strength of the ancient chain. Time had done nothing to weaken the iron links. “So don’t think you’re special. You were always going to end up here- it is the fate of your race.”

               I felt anger bubble in my empty stomach. Alois gave a final tug, ensuring the chain was secure. I wish I could’ve lunged at her, maybe been able to pull her down. If I had just the slightest measure of strength I might have gotten her to knock her head against the stones, left a bruise or a little cut. That would’ve been quite the embaressment for her, to suffer wounds inflicted by a caged crow. Her Queen wouldn’t like that.

               I could feel my toes again, just as she was leaving. One foot inside the cell and one out. I could feel my toes, that had to be enough. It was weird to think about movement like this, to actually think out toes-push-foot-push-ankle-push-knee and so forth. I tried to make everything connect, but I wasn’t fast enough. I jolted forward, catching my jaw hard on the cell bars. I tasted more blood, spitting up red rivers.

               Alois laughed, a genuine thing that surprised even her. I heard clinking metal as she raised a hand to cover her mouth and hide it, but the cruel sound leaked out the sides and filled the room. She knelt down, and I had to look at her face- neck still too stiff to turn away. One blue eye and one vacuous hole.

               “Was that an attempt at escape?” She asked.

               I wanted to give her  a smirk, just as Fwahe would’ve done. She got something wrong and that should’ve been bliss- could’ve stood as a victory if only I could crack that smile and let her know- but I was too busy mixing blood into my saliva to stop and stare.

               “Those chains will be your tomb.” She proclaimed, “There have been thousands of your kind that were butchered down here, slain for our feasts. We bashed their brains before breakfast and took off their toes for tea. It is the fate of your species to feed mine.”

               I tried to scrape my fingers off the floor. Print-push-knuckle-push-joint-push-hand-push-wrist but there was no connection. I wanted to press it against the cut, assist my tongue in stemming the flow. The taste of dirt and feathers would be far better then that of my own blood. I was so sick of it.

               “Be happy you’ve been tasted by the Queen.” She said, “Not everyone was given that honor.”

               I coughed.

               Her nose wrinkled, when my spit and blood landed on her polished boots. Gods be praised, there it was- my last small victory. She had to clean it off with the molding remains of aprons- the ones her butchers had worn when working down here. Her boots metallic echo retreated up the stairs, leaving me alone in the cold.

               I slowly recovered myself, and as there was no one about to mend me- I did the best I could on my own. The Litch Queen and her lackey meant to kill me, so I must oppose them by striving to survive. Living was so hard. I felt every breath that left me, and my arms felt as though they might burst as I worked to take the last stitches of my clothing and pull them to knotted bandage over my cuts. I had to pray it would be enough to hold them closed.

               Pray. Yes.

               I had to pray.

               The chains almost did not reach, each one pulled tight as I folded my hands and rested on my knees. There were no pews and no sermon. I didn’t even have the crosses that used to hang from my ears- not the slightest symbol.

               The floor had gathered considerable dust and dirt. I made a cross of my own in the refuse, running my finger through the powder of collected years to create the shape. It was not the church I’d dreamed of heading as a boy, but it was my own. It was humble- as a church should be, and its worshippers were faithful.

               The first prayers that came to me were Kane’s lessons. They brought the memory of sleepless nights, the cut of thorns across my back and the unspeakable things he forced upon me. I would not let him pollute my parish.

               “Oh Mother Kos.” I prayed, “Please give me strength. I have tried to use my own but it is failing. Please lend me the waves in your seas, the churning currents in your rivers- give me every ounce you can spare. I need them for a friend.”

               And once I started speaking to her,  I could fear her listening. The poems and rhymes all came back, and it was as ever before. I let my forehead rest on the floor of my cell. My lips stirred the dirt beneath them, centimeters from the floor as I made ferverent prayer on behalf of Fwahe.

               “Please, Mother Kos. Let me have everything you can so I can give it to her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, as always please let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought, your feedback is always much appreciated.


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